To Have Silence
by IniRniDefunct
Summary: The day after Voldemort's downfall, Harry is being forced by several people to talk to them. Mostly that Snape demands to know what had exactly happened in the battle. Complete
1. Chapter 1

Third Edition

Chapter 1

* * *

This was no ordinary day. It was the day after Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived defeated Voldemort. Every reporter and general busybody clamored to get the details of the event ever since the announcement was made; young Potter had single-handedly defeated the greatest Dark Lord in wizarding history. Strangely enough, the exact details of how Harry had killed Voldemort was known to only the dead dark wizard and his defeater. Not even the boy's best friends knew what transpired.After having his wounds healed by Madam Pomfrey ; Harry had locked himself inside his room at Grimmauld Place . He knew that his friends were worried, but still; he said nothing. What did his friends know of, what would they care for the horrors he saw during the battle. Harry was fortunate to barely capable of standing only one day after the last battle. And while Harry was more than glad for Voldemort's demise; still shuddered to think of what it had taken. He tried to banish thoughts of blood, of bloodshed, of exhumed bodies, an undead army. Voldemort, it would seem, had learned necromancy in the last six months. And though he was inexperienced, his new skill had made him only that much more difficult to destroy. The sight of his dead parents, shrieking horrifically and lusting for blood, shook him to the very core of his soul. Shaking his head to clear the images, Harry reminded himself that in spite of every underhanded ploy used to crush him, he had destroyed Voldemort. He had won. 

He doubted that he would ever forgive Voldemort for bringing _them _out of the ground. He knew he would never have mental acceptance about Voldemort's actions. If anyone saw him right now, they would think he was distraught, or out of his mind, driven to insanity because of the final battle. Harry knew he was being too harsh on himself at the moment, but he didn't care.

All he wanted was some peace and quiet, which was Harry, is enjoying right now. Although from time to time, someone would rap at the door, it was obvious that they had wanted to enter his room to talk. Harry heard several snippets of what they wanted to Harry talk about.

"Harry, you can't hide in there forever," said Hermione with a hint of worry in her voice.

"Mate, what's wrong? We're all celebrating, don't you want to join us?" said Ron. They kept up this sort of conversation for a minute or two before walking away.

Harry thought of his former teacher, Remus Lupin, and shook his head in grief. Wormtail had killed Remus with his silver hand; Harry clutched his fists in anger and relaxed, remembering when he avenged Sirius, Remus and his parents' death by torturing Wormtail, formerly known as Peter Pettigrew. He grinned sadistically, concentrating his thoughts on Wormtail's cries of mercy, and screaming in agony, convulsing to every whim of Harry's spells. Then he finally killed Wormtail with a swift of his own wand. He did not say the killing curse however, but instead a long and torturing curse that would eventually kill Wormtail.

Smiling to himself, he knew that he had avenged everyone's death, especially the Marauder's deaths that deserved it the most. He heard soft footsteps coming to his door and tensed, he knew that it could not be Ron or Hermione, from the sounds of their familiar steps. Then someone stopped in front of his door and knocked hard.

"Potter! Come out right now!" yelled someone. Harry could not pinpoint exactly whom the voice belonged to, though he had an idea of who it is. "Potter, don't try my patience or I will blast this door down!"

_'Snape... of_ _course,_' thought Harry dully. _'Who else would it be?'_

"Why should I? Leave me the bloody damn alone," said Harry spitting. He did not want to be bothered, least of all Snape. Suddenly the door blew off its hinges, standing in the doorway; Snape was panting. "Snape, leave the bloody damn house!"

"No, you need to stop hiding yourself!" said Severus Snape with the mask of anger on his face.

"What, do you think I would hide in here for a month?" asked Harry sarcastically. "I just want to be alone, is that so bloody hard to understand?"

"Shut up Potter or I'll hex you!"

"Sure, sure, get out _Snivellius!"_ spat Harry.

"Potter! That's it, _Silencio!_ Potter, stop being such a difficult boy!" Harry's eyes showed a murderous glare at Snape for even using the spell on him. "Now that you are _nice _and quiet, you can listen to me," drawled Severus Snape. "Nothing in this world is utopian, so help me Merlin, stop sulking!"

Harry only continued his steady leerat Snape, clutching his own wand. _'Screw you Snape, screw you to hell!'_ thought Harry, reciting the thought repeatedly in his mind. Harry was getting angry at Snape with each passing moment of staring at the greasy haired man. _'Damn you Snape, I don't want you in my room, bloody hell, I don't want you to even step in th-MY house!'_

"Are you even listening to me Potter or is your mind too simple?" asked Snape, with sarcasm in his voice. Harry launched himself at Snape, intending to tackle him and then punch him. However Snape saw him coming and pointed his wand at him. _"Petrificus Totalis!_ Really Potter, you need to stop this rash behavior! If I didn't know any better, I'd say you are being very unwonted in character."

Harry had crashed onto the floor with a loud sickening thud. Harry winced mentally in pain. He simply continued to glare at his former professor. Harry decided to calm his features on hi face and pretend to agree with him just to make Snape leave the room sooner.

"Good, you're listening," said the Potions Master, sneering at the boy on the floor. He squatted down next to him, creating closeness between Harry and the older male wizard. "Now, if you'll stop your brooding behavior then everyone can get off my back. They are complaining about you hiding yourself from everyone. Hell, I do not _even_ know how you and the Dark Lord fought or how you killed him. So help me Potter, tell us." Harry tried to say something and glared harder at Snape.

"Oh right, _finite incantatem,_ so you're going to talk?"

"Hell no," said Harry at once, glaring at him. "What happened is between me and the dead man."

"Potter..." growled Snape.

"Snape, just bloody back off! I'm not going to create any made-up stories about what happened between the two of us! Is that so bloody hard to understand Snape? Maybe the fight is a touchy subject that I have no wish for anyone to know!"

"Listen Potter, I want to know how you killed the Dark Lord, I've been in his service since I was seventeen - "

"Oh so you want me to pity you and tell you my story? Ha, I don't think so," said Harry, cutting him off. Snape punched his fist into the floor, snarling at The-Boy-Who-Lived. "It is my every right to remain silent." Snape only sighed, bowing his head.

"Fine Mr. Potter, but don't blame me if you are being driven insane because you haven't told this to anyone. Would you even tell Albus Dumbledore if he was still alive?"

"No, not even him," said Harry, narrowing his eyes at him.

"No one at all? No one to confide in?" asked Severus Snape.

"Hell, not even Ron or Hermione would know," spat Harry. "So take this bloody hex off me or I will do damage to you. Trust me; you don't want me to do that." Severus paled slightly but dissembled his face again to back to anger.

"And if I don't take it off right _now_, what will you do?" drawled Severus Snape.

"Then once I am out of this jinx, I will hex you to the point that you would not even recognize yourself anymore," said Harry in his threatening tone of voice.

"That, Potter, will get you no where. Seeing that I can easily leave you here for a week," Severus Snape said to the jinxed male on the floor who only growled in irritation.

"Fine, I won't hex you if you don't take this damn thing off!" said Harry, trying to twitch in his state, but proved to be useless. He couldn't even cavort around the room with his head.

"Potter, really, stop putting so much tension on your body. It won't do you good if I take the jinx off," Harry reluctantly relaxes his muscles, waiting for his former Professor to take the hex off. "That's much better, _finite incantatem."_

Harry slowly sat up, glaring even more at his ex-professor. He raised to his feet, and took two steps backwards. "All right, so what do you suggest me to do, _sir?"_ he spat out the last word.

"Go find someone to confide in," drawled Professor Snape. Harry made soft growling noises in the back of his throat.

"If I don't?" asked Harry.

"Then you will possibly be driven mad," said Snape.

"Hah, I won't be driven mad, I-"

"Oh really, locking yourself up when you should be celebrating. Is the first sign of your madness, Potter, if Dumbledore was still here, I wouldn't be telling you this. So consider yourself lucky."

"Well, I'm not lucky, I don't want you to be telling th-these things! Ordering me around like I'm still your student!" said Harry hotly. Potions Master stared at the wild-haired graduate boy, hardening his look with each passing moment with anger.

"I don't care if you are still my student or not, nevertheless, you need to take my commands because, as a chairman of Order of the Phoenix, you need to listen to what I say."

"_Bullshit_, I don't care, do you want to see when Voldemort brings your dead parents out of their- bloody hell!" Harry realized he made his slip and widened his eyes in horror. Snape looked taken aback, not expecting what he would reveal.

"I shouldn't have said that!" said Harry, horrorstricken at what he'd said.

"Potter, I-" drawled Snape, trying to regain his composure.

"Just go bloody away!" said Harry, making a loud crack and disapparated from Snape's view. Harry appareled into the kitchen, eyes bloodshot and caused everyone in the room to fall silent immediately. "Bloody hell, damn you Snape," whispered Harry. "Someone get me something to drink, firewhisky sounds great right about... _now."_

He sank into his seat, ignoring everyone trying to speak to him. Someone handed him some firewhisky; Harry immediately downed the whole bottle, causing a few gaping faces from others. Harry gave a small 'ahh' and relaxed in his chair. He had not really meant to make that small slip to Snape and he felt furious with himself. He knew he could have oblivated him, but didn't want to take chances in ruining his entire memory like Lockhart did. He shuddered in that memory from his second year. _'Close call anyway...'_ He heard the door opening behind him.

"Potter's been-!" he then heard him stuttering several seconds after his initial beginning of the sentence. "Potter, you're here!"

"Of course Snape, I'm _here._ Now go the bloody hell away," said Harry, drinking a second bottle.

"Now listen here Potter!" he heard Snape, sounding flustered. Harry closed his eyes, remaining calm. "Don't you ignore me Potter."

"Shut up Snape, I don't want to talk, plus I'm taking your suggestion and celebrate with the others here," he waved his hand to other people who are being silent. "Oh please don't listen to us, continue your celebration."

Slowly everyone began to drink and chatting to other people but the tension was still in the air. Harry looked back at Snape, leer in his eyes. "Oh Snape, don't be so biting and come and join us _sir."_

Snape came to the table, and glared at Harry and sat down across from him. He picked up a bottle of brandy and poured himself a glass while Harry was finishing the second bottle. Snape glared at him for drinking so much in short amount of time.

"Potter, you are going to have a hangover if you cont-"

"I don't care if I get a hangover or not. In fact, I _welcome_ any pain right now!"

"Don't be so masochistic tonight Potter, other people are list-"

"Just be quiet Sniviellius, I don't want to hear you right now, if you know what's good for you."

"Potter!" yelled Snape, angry at him for even saying the name out loud to other people. "That's it," he took his wand out and pointed at him. Before he could even blink or utter a spell, Harry acted faster than he did.

_"Stupefy,"_ said Harry in a relaxed voice and Snape was instantly knocked out and slumped in his chair. "Anyone else?" Everyone in the room gaped at Harry, not sure of what had just happened and some of them shook their head hastily. "Good," said Harry, uncorking the third cup of firewhisky. Harry then swirled around the murky drink that has a smoke steaming out of the bottle and took a sip.

Harry vaguely heard Hermione trying to speak to him but then realized that her words were far too wordy for his ears and tuned her out as he continued to drink. When he set his bottle down, did Hermione poke him with her finger angrily.

"Harry! Stop ignoring me, please, tell me that you're all right?"

"Of course I am," said Harry, maintaining to keep his voice in most articulating possible. He didn't want to slur his words just yet. "Otherwise I would still be in my room."

"Harry, you're not fine, this is your third bottle!" said Hermione, panic evident in her voice.

"Something I've done before Hermione."

"What, but Harry, school was finished two days ago - unless you drank before?" she asked, ready to reprimand him.

"Sod off Hermione, I don't really give a damn," said Harry, sloshing his drink around, not making a mess.

"Harry!" exclaimed Ron. "Apologize to her," said Ron.

"Oh sure, _I'm sorry_, that better Ron?" asked Harry with sarcasm.

"Much," growled Ron. "But really mate, you can tell us anything if - "

"Ron, I don't need your words what Snape wanted me to do," said Harry tiredly. "This is exactly why I didn't want to leave my room. I'll be going back."

Harry disapparated with a crack, carrying along his third bottle of firewhisky and appareted in front of his door before anyone could even protest. Before entering, Harry cast a spell to repair the door back to normal. He then cast several locking charm and a spell to prevent the door from exploding off its hinges. Harry sat down on his bed, taking another sip out of his bottle.

Harry knew from the _Daily Prophet,_ the Minister had wanted to make a speech for him, as the 'The-Boy-Who-Lived' along with Order of Merlin, First class. Harry honestly did not care for some bloody praise and a damn title that meant nothing to him. He sighed in irritation; he would have to come out sometime. But his thoughts would keep drifting to the soulless, haunted eyes of his dead parents, his dad's fleshless carcass hands reaching for him as his mom screamed for Harry's flesh.

The other people in the graveyard were scary to say the least, everyone scrambling for Harry's flesh, to make themselves more alive. As much as he had wanted to help his parents, he couldn't make them alive again. Harry had been unsure of what to do then, his Gryffindor screamed to find a way to make them alive, but his other side protested, the Slytherin, to destroy them all. Harry attacked all the other carcasses except for his parents. All the while, Voldemort had been laughing at him; he wasn't sure what to do with mom and dad's bodies.

Harry hadn't wanted to do anything degrading of his parents. Harry kept blaming all of his troubles on Voldemort and getting enraged with each passing moment in his fight with him. Harry knew he had made a decision in trying not to harm his parent's bodies. Harry kept telling himself that they weren't his parents, that they had been forced to be puppets by Voldemort.

Using with that thought in his head, he had delivered the final blow to Voldemort with series of fatal curses and hexes. Never using the killing curse. He knew that even in fight with Voldemort, he wasn't excused from going straight to Azkaban. Harry drew upon the power of love and gave one last curse at Voldemort, effectively killing Voldemort both physically, mentally, and soul. He turned to his parents and saw they were still under control, even after the death of Voldemort, sadness stroked his heart and something else, which he later recognized as betrayal. He knew they were being controlled, did not lessen his feeling of being betrayed.

With two waving of his wand, he destroyed his parents' bodies into dust. Harry watched the pile of dust being swept away into wind, and soon he saw no more remains of his parents were left. Distraught, and overwhelmed by sorrow, he no longer had his parents' bodies to mourn on except for their tombstones. He shed a tear in the graveyard.

Harry huddled up in his own body, saddened and abandoned, he found himself in his own room and finished the last sip of his drink. Morosely, he looked at the opposite wall and found himself staring at the mirror. Harry realized how red and tired his eyes were and pulled over a blanket, hoping for some shut eye. Unfortunately, a minute later, he heard knocking on the door and later accompanied for the first time, used Harry's first name.

"Harry! Let me in or I'll destroy your door again!"

"Just try Snivellius, just you try," muttered Harry to himself. He knew he had set the door so that not even Snape could blow it off. The knocking on the door continued for next ten minutes with several curses, hexes and spells to blow the door up.

"POTTER! MY PATIENCE IS WANING!" yelled Snape. Harry felt glad that he even made his room that it is not possible to apparate in, but still able to apparate out of the room, it was the same thing for the portkey as well. Harry smiled to himself as he dozed off with the constant yelling and knocking on the door. In truth, he did not care about anything or anyone in the world right now except for the much needed sleep.

* * *

The next day, Harry woke up to sounds of rapid sounds and groaned. _'Don't they ever give up? At this rate, they will be resting on the floor next to my door... wonderful._ _It's as if they want me to starve in my own room.'_ Harry felt safe in his own bastion room, protected by his own wards. Harry remembered and felt smart that he had Dobby to be his house elf. If he hadn't, well, he would have starved to death.

"Dobby?" asked Harry.

"Yes Harry Potter?" asked Dobby, appearing in front of him. Harry gave him a small smile.

"Hello Dobby, can you get me something to eat?"

"Certainly Harry Potter!" squeaked Dobby, and disappeared with his snap of fingers. Several seconds later, he returned with breakfast fit for a king. "Will this suit Harry Potter?"

"Yes, thank you, set it on the table please," said Harry, his stomach growling. He chuckled to himself as he ate his breakfast. Harry later realized that he hadn't come over with a hangover. Frowning, he asked for Dobby again.

"Dobby? I realized that I don't have a hangover from three bottles of firewhisky, do you know why?" Dobby fidgeted, and twisted his fingers. "Dobby, I won't hurt you if you know or did something."

"Dobby made firewhisky weaker than it was, Harry Potter. I did not want Harry Potter to... have a hangover," said Dobby, wincing for something to hit him. Harry sighed, shaking his head to himself.

"That would be why it was so much lighter than usual. Well, I guess I can thank you for that," said Harry, going back to his breakfast.

"Master not angry with Dobby?" asked Dobby.

"You should have known that by now, Dobby," said Harry with a grin. Dobby nodded eagerly.

"Dobby is sorry for stating the obvious sir, Dobby is sorry and does Master Harry Potter want anything else?"

"Can you tell me what everyone else is doing right _outside_ of my door?" asked Harry a little coolly. Dobby nodded, ignoring his tone of voice and disappeared with a snap of fingers. Harry soon heard voices outside the door.

"Harry, why did you send a house elf out here?" asked Ron, curious.

"Please Harry, we want to talk."

"No thanks, I'll speak on my own terms, Dobby you can come back now," said Harry and Dobby reappeared, looking a bit shaken. "What's wrong Dobby?"

"That Severus S-Snape threatened Dobby!" squeaked the little house elf. Harry glared at the door, not pleased with the treatment of his loyal house elf.

"Snape, you don't threaten my house elf!" yelled Harry.

"Potter, we want to talk to you! _I_ wish to speak with you," growled Snape.

"Sod off and I'll speak to you when I want to! Dobby, you can go back to work or whatever is it you do around here," commanded Harry, going back to his breakfast.


	2. Chapter 2

Second Edition

Chapter 2

* * *

Several days later of blissful peace spent in Harry's room; with an occasional banging on the door. Aside from the knockings, Harry could not be happier to seclude himself from everyone else.The knocking on the door came back, but sounding more urgent than ever, frowning, he asked, "What?" 

"Harry, we need your help! Some of the Death Eaters who had gotten away from the last battle are attacking the muggles!" said Hermione.

"How do I know if -" began Harry, wondering if it was a trap.

"Just don't waste any time and just apparate to 24th street in London!" said Hermione and ran off. Confused and wary, he knew that everyone was in disarray about something. What exactly besides Death Eaters, he did not know. Hermione returned, being more certain that they needed Harry's help because Death Eaters were bound in everywhere. He knew that everyone have been grousing about his behavior for the last few days, though the critical situation had asked for him to help.

If he didn't, nothing else would make him to stop causing panic from other people about his behavior. He had to help others, it was pratically his life-long job as he had been spending his life doing just that, help others and fight the evil guys. As much as he hated that, he did felt some calmity within himself as he apparated to the street Hermione had said. As soon he reappeared, he saw several active Death Eaters torturing muggles and wizard/witches alike. Some of the curses Death Eaters threw were causing muscle failures in muggles' bodies. If he hadn't known any better, he would have thought this section of London were in warzone full of disorganized debris and dead bodies.

The Death Eaters were yelling in the Dark Lords name, avenging Voldemort's death, restoring their rights and trying at restoring their reputation._ Now that he has arrived, their attempts will be in vain,_ Harry wryly thought to himself. Harry presented himself with manners in a sarcastic way, which caused the Death Eaters to rage in fury.

"Hello, would you like to challenge do a duel?" asked Harry politely.

"How dare you Potter! You will die for killing our Dark Lord!" yelled a Death Eater.

"Really, and you think you can kill me when I, myself, killed Voldemort?" asked Harry, arching an eyebrow. He had fully intended to mess around with the Death Eaters. After all, he had wanted some action before finishing them off or send them to Azkaban. The Death Eater with scared attitude tried to snarl in anger and pointed the wand at Harry.

"Cr-

_"Petrificus Totalius!"_ yelled Harry, snapping his wand out of his arm sleeves, and pointed at the Death Eater, faster than the opponent, and enemy fell to the ground with a thud, unable to move. Harry moved with such speed that it seems impossible that he did with careful movements. Of course, Harry had depended on instincts, and used that to gain an upper hand first.

The other Death Eaters saw what they were dealing with, and the fact that Harry defeated Voldemort only a few days ago. Fleeing with series of cracks, all but one trapped Death Eater were gone. Harry looks down at the trapped Follower of Voldemort and gave him a sneer.

"Looks like your new home is going to be Azkaban," he said with an hint that one would have thought he was happy. While he sounded happy, Harry was being sarcastic and of course, is gleeful that he captured a Death Eater. He supposed he would have to capture others himself. He knew he would have to help clean up the mess after the demise of Voldemort.

When the Aurors came and took one look at the Death Eater on the ground, then looked at Harry, looking rather flustered.

"Goo-good work Mr. Potter, we'll take it from here," said one of the Aurors, lifting the Death Eater up with magic.

"Well, I guess I'll go back to my house," said Harry with a crack. He was back at Grimmauld's place, in front of his room to be more specific. He suddenly cursed himself for forgetting one important detail. 

He was locked out of his room and the two keys that belonged to the door were inside his room. He had also made his room anti-apparation _inside_. Cursing his stupidity, he turned around, allowing his robe and cloak to billow out and apparated to the kitchens. Finding no one there and sighed a relief as he went to look for Dobby. He found Dobby making dinner, Harry cleared his throat for his attention.

"Oh Harry, sir!" squeaked Dobby, as he continued the cooking.

"I was wondering if you could do me a favor," he said somewhat lamely.

"Of course Harry Potter, Sir! What can Dobby do for you, sir?" stopping his cooking for the moment.

"Can you unlock my door?"

Dobby frowned at him.

"How does Dobby know you are Harry Potter, sir? Dobby is sorry for suspecting you sir," he frowned but Harry gave him a smile. He had told Dobby if anyone asks the house elf something and may be pretending to be him.

"It's okay Dobby; I gave you the order to be suspicious. Ask me a question that no one else knows but you and me."

"What and where did the ingredient I found for your second task?"

"It was the gillyweed and you got it from Snape's store room." 

"Good, so can you unlock my door please?"

"Of course Harry Potter, sir! Can Dobby finish cooking, please sir?"

Harry sighed and looked to the stove and saw that it was ready to be burned. Harry nodded, letting Dobby know that it is okay and that he would wait.

'Okay Dobby, you do that," he said, Dobby nodded in eagerness to finish his cooking. Harry disappeared with a crack. Appearing in front of his bedroom door and waited there for Dobby to come and unlock it for him. He leaned against the wall, in an indifferent position. Then he heard something he did not want to hear, footfalls and approaching fast. The footsteps were coming up the stairs as Harry banged his head against the door post. He mentally groaned in his mind, knowing what was coming, he recognized the steps only too well.

"Potter!" yelled Severus Snape. Harry didn't respond, just looked at him. Snape stopped running when he saw him standing next to the door. "...What are you doing there; don't tell me you've locked yourself out of there," sneered Snape. Harry glared at him venomously; he did not want to be bothered right now.

"How convenient," drawled Snape, "we can actually hold a proper conversation."

Harry still did not say anything but glare at him. Snape wasn't fazed by his glare but only sneered back at him. He walked up to Harry, his sneer pronouncing even more with each step. Harry felt irritated and wanted Dobby to unlock _right_ now. He could not stand talking to anyone right now.

"I heard you came and took care of a few Death Eaters," he drawled.

"No, you got that wrong, I only trapped one," corrected Harry, wishing that people would not exaggerate or twist things around.

"Still, you managed to make the rest of them to leave," he countered. Harry shrugged his shoulders and then sagged them.

"In my own definition, I only took care of one," said Harry.

"Will you come out of your rooms from now on?"

"Of course not, are you daft?" replied Harry.

"No, I'm not daft, you are being a coward, even when you are a Gryffindor," drawled Snape.

"I have news for you Snape, perhaps a bit of refresher," said Harry hotly. "Don't you remember that one scene in one of my Occulemency lessons with you back in my fifth year? The one with the sorting hat?"

"No I don't," drawled Severus. "Remind me."

"I was nearly placed in Slytherin and I _had_ to beg the hat to not put me in Slytherin, happy? That I have some Slytherin qualities in me?"

"No, on the contrary, it only makes things even worse, because I cannot imagine _you_ in my house. Your foolish Gryffindor bravery is too much for me to bear."

"Well, too bad for you," said Harry, shrugging again. Dobby finally unlocked his door. "Go away now," said Harry, entering his rooms. Snape immediately followed in before Harry could close it. Growling under his voice, he glared harder at him. _"Get out Snape! I don't want you in here!"_

"No Potter, you need to come out and stop this foolish behavior. Everyone is grating my nerves in trying to get _you_ out of here. So, help me Merlin, don't drive me to insanity!" Harry rolled his eyes and glared at him.

"Listen Snape, I don't want to deal with anyone right now, if I could, I would run away to the muggle world and never deal with anything magic again. So do not _make_ me take that option," threatened Harry. That did it, shutting Snape up, as if he was slapped in the face and now steadily getting angry again.

"Potter, you will do no such thing!"

"Really, try me Sir, just try me, _stupefy!"_ Harry whipped out his wand so fast that Snape couldn't even make a sound and fell to the ground with a thunk. Smirking slightly, he asked for Dobby.

"Yes Harry Potter sir?" asked Dobby, wary of the man on the ground.

"Put him in a room two floors down, the further away he is from me, the better," growled Harry, walking away.

"Yes sir, Dobby will do that for Harry Potter sir," said Dobby, slightly scared of Harry's mood as he picked Snape up and disappeared with his snap of fingers. Sighing of relief, Harry pulled a book out and began reading the one on helpful house cleaning charms in a home. He found some bits of it intriguing; others were bland and boring. Nevertheless, he read the book anyways; he didn't think he would even use them because of Dobby.

This greatly reminded him of Hermione and her S.P.E.W. Thankfully, she had given up on her S.P.E.W. in sixth year because she found out that if house elves were not bonded to a master for more than five years, they would either lose magic or die. From then on, she had to learn to accept that the house elves are perfectly happy with their jobs. Just as long as they were treated fairly, was Hermione's motto at the time.

Hermione hadn't known that house elves were to losing magic the longer they were unemployed, the worse they would be. If they hadn't killed themselves for being free in the first place. Harry freely wondered how nice it would have been able to use magic while at the Dursley's. He would had complete control over the house, or if he didn't. He would have used magic to clean the house. If only they were not so afraid of magic.

_'Anyway, I have to do something about Snape,'_ thought Harry. He wished he could just leave the house already but being as persistent as he is, Harry won't go. He had Snape depraving him all seven years in Potions class. How he passed the O.W.Ls for Potions, he would never know. By Professor McGonagall constant insistence, he took the potions class so he can be an auror.

Now he wasn't sure if he wants to be an auror anymore. He would have to deal with many dark creatures and dark wizards and witches. Granted, he liked to take on the Death Eaters, but that was different.

He wished that his worries were as normalas the rest of the wizarding world. Alas, that cannot happen to the Boy-Who-Defeated-You-Know-Who-For-Good as most reporters have dubbed him. He wished he could find a way to repute anything that deals with his fame. Harry knew if he wanted to escape into the state of being incognito, there is that leaving the muggle world option.

Or commit some bad crimes that would make him look bad, but he supposed it would make him even more, if not, infamous than he was now. _'Really, the reporters are exaggerating everything I do, it's getting ridiculous, not to mention sickening.'_

He wished he could find a way to escape the fame without causing any ignominy on his reputation. He supposed that would never happen, as literally _everyone_ in the wizarding world knows him. Defeated, he decided to go to sleep early.

**Dream**

"Mwha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Now you will die at the hands of your own parents!" yelled Voldemort with mirth, cackling as Harry watched the corpses around him closing in on him. The two of them being Lily and James, Harry thought that all of this was only a figment of his imagination. It couldn't be his dead parents. They were lusting after his own blood!

_"Mum! Dad, snap out of it!"_ yelled Harry, hoping they would stop trying to get him. This only spewed even more laughter from Voldemort. Harry felt his own emotional being were shaken by the sight of his parents. He felt weak, and wanted to keep fighting Voldemort.

The answer were in front of him and Harry felt used. He had to fight the will of his mind to ignore his parents. They were just corpses, but he knew that after the battle; would tear him apart. The skeletons and corpses with skin still attached, clawed at him. Harry pointed his drawn wand at the majority of dead army. He felt something going through his left shoulder and turned around and faced with his own father.

**End Dream**

Harry sat up, screaming as he instinctively grabbed his scar. But he realized the scar didn't hurt in the first place, as it had in the past. Harry sighed in relief. He drew his knees to his chest, shaken from his dream. Harry shook his head, telling himself that it was a figment of his imagination. But he knew that he was lying to himself. He wanted a night with a nonexistent dream, where he could actually sleep in peace; undisturbed by the latest events of his life. The dream was so detailed, he found that he was unable to sleep for hours afterwards. No one came to comfort him, like the time of Hogwarts where Ron would wake him up. It was comforting then.

He knew the exact details of the battle was so sickening, because Ron was now trying to work his way into his room; only few hours after his dream.

"Mate, please, I know you are suffering, but at least let me carry some of that burden!" said Ron.

_'When did he get so noble and wise?'_ wondered Harry. Then he thought about the fight back in early seventh year. _'I suppose it's that and the final battle made him see his own.'_

"Sorry, Ron," said Harry quietly but he knew Ron could hear him. His maturity had improved in the last two years, due to the brain attacks back in the fifth year. Something inside the tentacles improved Ron's hearing. It had improved to the point of having a remarkable cochlea within his ear. Ron had been lucky to survive the attacks in the Department of Mystery.

"I don't want to, I can't," spoke Harry.

"Why?" asked Ron from the other side of the door. Harry stood up and walked over. He felt really bad about doing this to Ron. He hadn't deserved anything like this sort of treatment.

"Because I don't think anyone can handle of what happened," said Harry.

"You would be surprised, Harry, at least let me in," said Ron, pleading.

"You know Ron, you've pieced a lot of things together for me, I don't know what I would do without you and Hermione. Please, I don't know when, but one day, I'll let you guys in."

"Harry!" said Ron, sounding somewhat alarmed. "You need to talk to us, whatever has happened, you looked so bad when you came back to Hogwarts after the battle."

"I know, when you know - no I'm sorry Ron. I can't tell you," said Harry. Berating himself for almost making another promise, that he knew he would break.

"Mate, I _know_ you want to talk to us, you always have."

"Ron, if you respect me, then you will leave the questions unanswered. You have to realize that not all questions are answerable."

"This one is!" said Ron hotly.

"A question to what I will never answer, not in my life," said Harry, still speaking softly.

"Mate..."began Ron.

"Please Ron, just... leave me alone," interrupted Harry, going back to his own bed Harry realized that Ron had fallen silent as well and the footsteps retreated away from the door.

Harry knew he had a tendency in keeping secrets for as long as he could. However, this one would last well into his grave, if not, the beyond. Harry felt that the memories were surrounding him. He thought that he was going insane. Harry realized, _just how do you know that you are insane? Do the true insane people realize that they have... gone mad? Does the Longbottoms?_ Feeling a new surge of revenge towards Bellatrix Lestrange, he had really wanted to avenge the Longbottoms along with Sirius.

She was walking freely in the wizarding world or perhaps the muggle world. He had to find her and he won't mind if he used the killing curse on her. Harry faintly wondered that if killing was justified, he would not be put in Azkaban? Or so he hoped they wouldn't. The reasoning sounded so perfect, it had to work..

He wasn't sure if he was just a nuance away from filling the the criteria to be the next Dark Lord. He shuddered at the very thought of being one. He didn't think he could handle that. The thoughts of his parents, Sirius, and Dumbledore's death were too much for even allowing himself to become dark.

Harry knew he would have to carry on with his life, somehow. The bodies of the corpses didn't really leave your mind so easily, even if you witnessed so many deaths in a period of time. There would be a lot of carping reporters if they started spewing out that Harry is going dark. But Harry wasn't, he still knew the love. The love had been great at the time in the Department of Mysteries, nevertheless when he thought of, just to die and rejoin Sirius.

Then that gave Harry the idea, _'If I would just kill myself, everything would end...'_ Harry stopped his thoughts, aghast at what he was thinking. Wasn't he thinking of moving on with his life, only mere moments ago? He couldn't let all the sacrifices that had been made in his name, in vain.

He hated how callous he was thinking, especially at such thoughts he was having. He felt the insatiable need to be loved and to love someone else. Then Harry knew, he would need to move on soon. He longed for the halcyon days, where no dark wizards reigned. Feeling empowered and renewed in vigor of capturing all Death Eaters. He would leave other Dark Wizards to Aurors. He stood up, pocketed his key and suddenly opened the door. Then Harry wished he never opened the door.

Hermione was standing there; ready to knock on the door with mouth open to say his name. She blinked in surprise, jaws dropping further than she originally had. "H-Harry?"

"No time Hermione, I have to hunt, it's the only way I can move on," said Harry, making past Hermione.

"What do you mean, hunt?" asked Hermione shrilly.

"Death Eaters that are walking freely," yelled Harry as he walked down the stairs. He walked into the kitchen, pushing the door wide open, revealing most of the Order at the table.

"Hi guys," said Harry lightly. Then there was a heavy silence.

"Harry! You came!" yelled Mrs. Weasley happily.

"Yes, I do realize that," said Harry coolly, making her frown slightly.

"What is it you want, Harry?" asked Mr. Weasley.

"Information on Death Eaters of course," said Harry.

"Why?" asked Snape.

"So I can hunt them down. I figured it's the only way I can move on," said Harry.

"Why don't you tell us what happened in the final battle?" asked Tonks.

"Sorry, can't do, so where are they?"

"Right now, they are targeting muggles in large population so -"

"Right, muggles, large population, thanks, bye!" said Harry, disapparating to parts of busy London. He looked around for any suspicious activities. He kept disapparating to places with large population of muggles. He even apparated to Surrey and found no Death Eaters there as well. Harry knew he would find them on this wild goose chase eventually. It was just a matter of time. He knew that this wasn't exactly a good devious way to catch the Death Eaters. Finding then attacking on offense may deem as a stupid way to get the Death Eaters.

Harry could care less; he would apparate all month just to find one single Death Eater, with food and rest of course. Not to mention, getting out of the house and getting fresh air felt good to him. He hoped to find Bellatrix last so he can torture her nice and long because he was sure that each Death Eater was likely to piss him off. All the pent up anger would be an asset to get Bellatrix Lestrange. The cruelest witch of Wizarding world he knew.

Death Eaters would have to be in the open sometime in the future. They could not just hide in one single place for more than a year, if necessary. Harry knew he would not even last that long. Sirius also proved that as well. He couldn't even stay in Grimmauld for a year.

With each location, the more he began to glean clues of where they could be. At one place, there was a sign of suffering from the muggles that was a bit too weird to call normal. Harry couldn't go up to them and ask what was wrong. He would find himself in a tight situation if he had done that. The area showed some hint of known Death Eaters, MacNair to be more precise. Harry found some beheaded cats and dogs in a Dumpster area. Sickened with disgust, Harry walked backwards away from the area and ran.

He ran into something and collided with a crash. Harry looked at what, or rather who, he crashed into. He grinned wickedly. He found one of the Death Eaters who was carrying a dead Australian shepherd dog.


	3. Chapter 3

Second Edition

Chapter 3

* * *

The brutally of the animal had gotten Harry so queasy, he couldn't believe that such human being was capable of doing a foul act. His stomach revolted and tried to calm his nerves down. In all aspects, he can guess exactly who is behind the mask.

"Like my new hide Potter?" sneered the Death Eater, the voice had sounded familiar as well, securing his guess.

"Your charades won't work on me MacNair," said Harry coolly. "Stop hiding behind that mask of yours; you bloody coward." This made the Death Eater to get angry with Harry.

"Shut up you idiot!" he threw the dead animal aside next to dustbins. "All you ever show are stupid, and not to mention such vulgar acts!"

"My, my, you do have a big vocabulary don't you?" sneered Harry.

"Shut up! This is for the Dark Lord! _Crucio_ Harry sighed, and side stepped the attack and struck the Death Eater with a petrifying charm.

"You are so slow MacNair, I swear you threw that spell slower than a flesh-eating slug!" He heard satisfying grunting in anger at Harry and smirked. "Why are all Death Eaters so predictable? Oh well, I won't complain, time for you to go where you _belong; _the hellhole called Azkaban," said Harry.

He paused, almost forgetting something, "Oh, and I have a question, do you know where that deranged Bellatrix Lestrange is?" He got no answer. "My apologies," said Harry, mocking him as he put anti-apparation on MacNair and un-petrified him. "So, where is she?"

"Never," spat MacNair. Harry shrugged at him.

"Your loss, because I can easily get Vertiaserum and pour it down your throat," threatened Harry. "Then after that, you will be in Azkaban."

"Then what's the point in telling you if I don't get a reward?"

"Fine, I'll let you contact your family that you're caught, fair enough?"

"No, of course not, I will never betray my fellow followers."

"You're not making this easy at all for me, are you?" asked Harry tiredly. "And don't even answer, it was a rhetorical question," he said, when he hear MacNair ready to speak the answer. Harry took a can out of the dustbin and created a portkey back to the Ministry.

"Y-you, that's illegal!" said MacNair almost gleefully. "You do know that you're not as exalted as you are when it comes to laws, you know?" Harry scoffed at him.

"When have I ever abided by the laws?" he asked, and the only answer was a growl. "Sorry, intimidation or scaring me won't work on me, sorry to disappoint you," he said with sarcasm. "You sure have the impudence and nerve to talk to me and insult me. I do remember when you tried to execute Buckbeak. Oh and by the way, he is doing great," he said cheekily.

"What! I knew you had a hand in his escape!" growled MacNair. Harry forced MacNair to touch the portkey along with Harry.

"3... 2... 1..." said Harry and both felt a tug behind their naval and transported the pair to the Ministry. He met with the Minister, Dumbledore, Snape, Tonks, several familiar faces and Mr. Weasley. "Hi guys, here's one of the Death Eaters," said Harry, dropping MacNair face first to the floor with a sickening crunch. "Oh, ouch, sorry," said Harry as though he didn't mean what he said.

"Oh, one of them, jolly good," said Minister Fudge. "Wait, did you use an unregistered portkey?" asked Minister.

" I don't _care_ as long as I get rest of the Death Eaters. Anyway, can we get some Vertiaserum since he won't tell me the information I need," said Harry coolly and innocently at the same time.

"Now, listen here!" said the Minster extravagantly. "You can't go around and—"

"_I_ most certainly can, now can we administer the potion or not?"

"Potter, shut up, as I have told you for past seven years, you are not above the law!" said Snape, irritated with Harry.

"The only difference is that, I did care about trying not to be above the law, but now when _I'm_ dealing with the Death Eaters, to be frank, I don't care. Now, if you won't help me, I'll be taking my leave, good bye," he said curtly and disapparated back to the alley where he caught MacNair. One Death Eater meant more would be in the vicinity. Harry walked around, keeping his eyes, ears and the feel of magical auras heightened.

For the next seven hours of searching, he had not a single trace of Death Eaters anywhere and nearly apparated back home when something caught his attention. Hoping for a lucky, fortunate turn of events, and hoped that someone unlucky would come across his path. He needed to release his pent up energy now. Sending furtive looks around the area, to make sure he hadn't missed a detail. Satisfied, he proceeded with large amount of cool emotions, he couldn't keep his feelings out of control now. As Harry was approached a small abandoned, impoverished, suspicious-looking building; he knew that Death Eaters usually have a liking for muggle places such as these ones, less attractive to the general population of humans.

Harry pressed his ears against the door to listen for any disturbance or a conversation going. He wasn't disappointed; he heard at least three voices. Grinning, he glanced at the threshold of the doorway and lowered himself so he could hear the voices better. He was mindful of his crinkling robes as he tried not to make a lot of swishing noises and finally got a good place to hear.

"Where has MacNair gone? He hasn't chickened out has he?" asked a male voice, sneering.

"I don't know, stop repeating the question already, perhaps something got in the way of his _animals_," said another voice, but feminine. Harry felt a lump jump up his throat excitedly. It had to be her! "Should we begin without him?"

"I don' see why not, it is his fault for not showing up," said a different voice.

"Fine, we'll start," said Bellatrix. "About our plans, as for all we know, Potter's powers could only be short-lived, otherwise the Dark Lord may have still live today."

"What if it isn't a temporary," asked the first voice.

"Then we're buggered," said Bellatrix coolly. "So shut up Goyle and listen!"

_'Goyle?__ He actually _lived_ all of that?' _wondered Harry, shaking his head, almost sorry for the Death Eater. He had killed his father in the final battle, but his son seems to be just as active as his father was. He supposed that Goyle just wanted to be with his group instead of being on the Light side.

"Anyway, we have to do with whatever left of us into an organized defense and take on the London. It is our objective; we have to wipe out as much of the city as we can. Not to mention the wizarding parts of London; that will be last."

Harry rolled his eyes at their stupidity; they weren't going to be able _do_ that! After all, Harry is _sitting_ right where they are. He supposed it was sheer luck—and not to mention—stupidity on their part, that Harry found them. Harry quietly apparated back to the Ministry and found Snape, Minerva, Hermione, Ron, and few others of the Order, along with the Minister of Magic.

"Hey guys, I need your help," said Harry, pulling an old watch out. _"Portus,_ come on, I found a temporary hideout for most of the Death Eaters."

"Mr. Potter! You-you-" stuttered Minister, pointing at the newly made portkey. Then he tried to raise objections, a way to protest against _the_ Harry Potter from giving orders to other people but his cries were not heard.

"Oh you great prat, shut up," said Harry as most of his friend touched the old watch without a word. "I'll be back with at least four Death Eaters. 3... 2... 1..." and they all went back to where Harry had left. Harry whispered to them.

"Okay, are you ready? We're just going to run in and stun as much as we can, okay?" ordered Harry, and every nodded, having to deal with this sort of thing during the latest Voldemort reign. Harry used the Unlocking-charm on the door and immediately invaded the old building.

The Death Eaters had been companionably drinking, consumption of small food to their plans or so Harry guessed. Bellatrix had been the first to react and threw a stunning hex at Harry who dodged and threw the same spell back at her. His friends also threw the stunning hex at the others and everyone had been knocked out unconscious.

"Good," said Harry, smirking. "Caught them by surprise," said Harry. The others looked at each other warily, thinking that if they hadn't known any better. They would had thought that Harry _is_ a counterpart of Voldemort. Harry looked at the others and frowned, using a bit of Legillimency.

"I'm not like that—_sorry _for an excuse_ wizard_ that kills Muggle borns and muggles—Voldemort you know," said Harry coolly, surprising everyone to their core. "Sorry, Legillimency is kind of a natural for me now, _as you already know,"_ muttered Harry as he tied them all up and created a new portkey for the Death Eaters, and another one for his friends to return with. "Okay, you take this portkey, I'll go back with the Death Eaters.

Once everyone returned to the Ministry, someone was shouting at him. "Potter! That is it, you are being too out of control for my own tastes!" yelled the Minister, not at all pleased with the law breaking Harry had been doing recently.

"Please, do you want Death Eaters to be walking around freely? In fact, this group was planning on wiping most of London out, they were going to get more Death Eaters to do that. Or would you rather have me return them back to where they were?" The Minster hesitated, trying to give him the answer. "Oh I don't believe this, you _are_ _actually_ hesitating. Tell me, are you a Death Eater as well?"

"Harry, don't you start on this conclusion you have created for yourself," said Hermione tiredly.

"No, I prefer to hear the answer from the _Great_ Minister himself," said Harry, being on purpose—stubborn—persistent—about the whole thing. He heard her sigh out of annoyance and just tired of Harry being difficult.

"W-well, of course I'm not!" said the Minister, going purple in the face. Harry tutted, and raised his hand for Fudge's arm. "Wh-what!" He flinched visibly, hiding his left arm.

"Give me your left arm please," said Harry, making sure that the reporters can see the two of them.

"No thank you, there isn't a mark on there!"

"Oh really? How did you know that? Only the members of Order and the real Death Eaters knew that. Also the fact you saw one yourself in the end of my third task," said Harry, smirking. His friends looked at each other, finally dawning on what he meant. "So please, roll up your sleeves of your left arm. If you're really innocent, then you have no reason to hide your left arm. Unless, of course, it is some horrible scar that we don't ever want to see. Just like my scar," he said sarcastically.

The Minister was now looking positively like a wraith, trying to back away from Harry. Harry shook his head, preventing him to back up any further than he could.

"I can easily take the whole sleeve of your left arm off without a wand," said Harry, threatening him.

"Harry! You can't threaten the Minister!" exclaimed Hermione, worried.

"Ah-ha, yes, you can't threaten me," said the Minister, gaining his confidence back. "Now Potter, I will have y—Aurghhhh!" Harry had rolled his eyes at Hermione and waved his hand, cutting the seams of the minister's left sleeve off, exposing his arm for the whole world to see. Many people in the rooms gasped. There, clearly a visible Dark Mark etched into the Minister's inner forearm. "POTTER! AURORS! ARREST HIM!" screamed the Minister, trying to hide his Mark. No Aurors made a movement to take Harry. Everyone had stood there, unbelieving that their own Minister is a Death Eater.

"Now, does everyone believe me?" asked Harry, breaking the silence, aside from the Minister blubbering about innocence. Harry was about prepared in throwing the Minister to Azkaban himself. "I think I'll send the Minister on his way, now."

"No, not yet Harry," said Hermione, staring coolly at the so-called Minister. "I can't believe you, we trusted you!" she said harshly at the Minister.

"The whole Wizarding world did," said Harry softly, glaring at Cornelius Fudge. Everyone else stared wide-eyed at the Minister as Harry rose his arm to point his wand at the Minister. "Now everyone know what a big lie you are, if we can't trust you, who can? Dumbledore's gone, Remus' gone, and hell, you all thought Sirius Black, was a mass murderer!" Everyone gasped at this, shocked to hear such words. "Yes, Sirius, who was my Godfather, was innocent! Thanks to your mess, he got killed before he was free, cleared even. You never gave him a trial, Fudge, he never had a goddamn _trial!_" yelled Harry.

He could hear the quills writing fast on parchments from the reporters, trying to get the story. He smiled; at least everyone would finally know the truth that Sirius is innocent. He cast a binding charm on the Minister, who fell to the ground from the ropes on his wrists and feet. "I wish I could finish you off right there Fudge, but torture is _much _better. Why die if you won't feel anything, when you can be tortured for the rest of your life?" asked Harry harshly. "So, how can we trust anyone else if you have betrayed our trust?"

"You, Mr. Potter!" cried someone in the crowd. Harry felt a rush of embarrassment as more and more people agreed that they can trust _him_ now. Harry shook his head hastily.

"No, please don't do that," said Harry quietly. "I don't think I deserve everyone's trust."

"Are you crazy, Harry?" asked Hermione. "Of course you deserve our trust! What have you done that will make us not to trust you?"

"The ... the fact that no one knows what happened in the Final Battle with Voldemort (everyone save people of the Order cringed), is that a reason enough?"

"No, of course not Mr. Potter," said one reporter near him. "I… well, we think thatthat people need some privacy," Harry snorted.

"Privacy indeed! Why, since I was in fourth year, none of you backed off my privacy! Oh, this is so bloody hilariously rich," said Harry, barking out a laugh.

"Mr. Potter, since Fudge is most likely not staying in the office any more, (Fudge whimpered) w-we're willing to change our ways!" said another reporter, hoping to gain Harry's trust.

"So bloody hilarious," repeated Harry, "don't you all know that? I've never trusted anything that dealt with the press since my Fourth year. Except for that one time in fifth year, but that was under unique circumstances," said Harry offhandedly. "Now, however, I _may_ start trusting you if you start respecting people's, especially_ my,_ privacy. Oh, and no lies or twists. Those are the worse things a reporter can write. Now, I am feeling rather exhausted, and Aurors can interrogate the remaining Death Eaters if there are any others still about," said Harry and with that, he disapparated away.


	4. Chapter 4

ThirdEdition

Chapter 4

'"Potter!" yelled Snape, back at Grimmauld Place. "How can you just declare like that?" he asked curiously, from behind the door in Harry's room. Harry took a breath and faced the door tiredly.

"Because I'm sick of the press making up lies!" replied Harry angrily. "Aren't you just trying to ask such obvious questions? I'm not trying to earn any respect about the press, you know, and don't forget about my attitude towards my fame."

"But Potter," began Snape.

"Snape, can't we at least find a way to settle about all of this?" asked Harry. "Why can't we have a truce for a while? You're getting on my nerves and when someone does that, I'm less likely to come out of my room!"

"Don't try to exacerbate things, Potter," growled Snape.

"I'm not, you are!" snapped Harry, wanting more than anything to hex Snape into next week.

"This is so idiotic, Potter, I'll come back tonight," said Snape, his footsteps sounding and fading off in the distance. Harry sighed out of irritation; he really wanted some peace for once. Harry's thoughts went back to the final battle but he tried to stop the thoughts before anything painful was brought up. He was too late as he remembered the grotesque looks of his dead parents... chasing him for his flesh, blood and bones. None of his maelstrom of curses or hexes had worked on the dead army. Harry curled up in his bed, forcing the image out of his mind.

He knew his behavior has taken the apathetic nose dive, but really, Harry couldn't care less, he supposed he would mope around until something could finally distract him. His friends, he knew, wouldn't be able to distract him for long. He couldn't bear to imagine having such macabre topic brought up with his friends. Let alone, necromancy. Harry thought it couldn't get any worse than having your dead parents chasing you, with flaps of dead tissue hanging onto their skeleton bones...

He shook his head furiously, berating himself for allowing his thoughts to stray again. He had to get his mélanges of thoughts out of his head or he would never speak to anyone out of fear of speaking about the forbidden art. He knew he had to figure a way to reduce any papers, texts, movies, anything in the muggle world and wizarding world, of necromancy. He didn't think necromancy needed to be repeated, ever. Not even in small amount of information be left laying around. Lest someone learn about the dark branch. He supposed necromancy is something on _everyone's_ thoughts. People generally would like to bring someone back from the dead, even if they're un-dead.

Getting his plans in order on how to start eradicating anything dealing with necromancy, he felt it was just impossible. Perhaps there was one way that would prevent anyone doing anything with conjuration of dead people. He could destroy any and all texts of how to create dead armies. Smiling in satisfaction, he thought, _yes, he would do that_. Oh no, he would never renounce to his friends, he would never be telling anything about the final battle. Nor would he leave any more clues than what he left to Snape.

First, he would drench any and all plans in his mind, back up plans and even more back ups of ways to erase any information on Necromancy. Again, his mind's image flashed back to his carcass that had once belonged to his parents, risen up from the ground. Harry growled, he was getting sick of the image stuck in his head. He was sorely tempted to use the Obliviation charm on himself. But he wouldn't do that, or otherwise he would not be able to destroy the text.

He knew he wasn't about to give up on his plans in eradicating the books on Necromancy. He had to find a reason in which would be irrefutable in letting Harry get what he wished. Granted, it does require a lot of power, but he wasn't about to let risk in learning the magical branch, he knew _he_ could raise dead people from their graves.

True to Snape's word, the Potions Master returned back to his door few hours later. The professor knocked on the door impatiently, hoping this time, Harry would come out.

"Listen Potter, and listen to _me_ good! If you don't come out right now—"

"I'm sorry sir, I didn't know you were in charge," said Harry sardonically. "If I do remember correctly, you're not my professor anymore, _Snivellius._"

"Potter! Show some respect!" yelled Snape.

"I'll show you _respect, sir!_ I will go against your order if you do not start respecting me!"

"Respect? _Respect, Potter?_ You must be mad," said Snape.

"Then we will _never_ go anywhere, Snape," said Harry coolly. He heard a footsteps withdrawing and fading down the stairs. Harry sighed in relief, leaning against the headboard of his bed. Several minutes later, he heard the faint glimpses of bantering conversations between Ron and Hermione.

"Listen, Ron! Harry needs his privacy!" said Hermione, her voice too familiar for Harry.

"He's sulked long enough Hermione, he needs to come out! Hell, we could just go out for a firewhiskey if he wants!" argued Ron.

"NO, not firewhiskey, Ron!" exclaimed Hermione. Harry thought of having a drink or two with his friends but then he remembered the muggles. There had been stories where drunken people would tell _anything_ under the influence of alcohol. Shaking his head, he wasn't about to drink in the company of people. No matter how desperate he was.

"Hermione's right, you know," said Harry, speaking up from behind the door.

"Harry, I tried to stop Ron from bothering you..." began Hermione.

"I understand. Ron, I'm sure we can chat sometime later, I just need to organize my thoughts first..."

"You sure have a lot of organizing then, since you've holed up in there for, what? Almost two weeks!" exclaimed Ron, but Harry heard a slap and an ow. "Hermione!"

"Ron, something must have happened during the last battle with Voldemort. Of _course_ he would need time to think! Let it go, Ron, and he'll talk to us. He always does..." her voice faded as the pair walked off reluctantly. Harry let out his breath in a rush. He wasn't about to perform any details on Voldemort's defeat and his Death Eaters. Hell, no one even knew if there were any Death Eaters alive when Harry began to fight Voldemort.

The last thing he would ever do was doing any sort of litany on such matters, not if he could help it. They would need some good reason for why they would want to know what happened between The-Boy-Who-Lived and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. He reasoned someone might want to know because their parents or close family relative had been killed by his hand. Then again, _his_ life has been ruined ever since he was born and has continued to be since. He felt he had every right to keep the battle a secret. Let rumors create themselves, he didn't care.

He would have some, and just laugh at some of the rumors of what may have transpired all those days ago. Not even the begging could ever get the secret out of him. He wished he could just disappear from the wizarding world and go into the muggle world. He knew he was being cowardly, then Harry scoffed. He was hiding in his own room for Merlin's sake!

Although he did know his friends cared for him, he would never grant their wish the knowledge of what happened. He wanted to protect whatever innocence they had left in them. Sure, they had several close calls near death, but never going as far deep as Harry had gone. For that, he was glad that their innocence remained untouched. Harry vowed he would protect them as long as he could. _One of the steps would be, of course, erasing any and all texts on Necromancy,_ he thought grimly.

He would begin his 'journey' tomorrow on doing just that.


	5. Chapter 5

Second Edition  
Chapter 5

* * *

The next day arose as Harry woke up from his fitful slumber. He let out a tired sigh and decided he would try and _mingle_ with his friends today. He knew what he had to do; his task wouldn't stop him from… interacting. As it is, Ron was right, he did have plenty of time to himself, and it was high time to come out voluntarily. Cautiously, as to make sure no one caught him walking out of his room, he found the hallway clear. He made his way to the kitchen. 

When he arrived in the kitchen, he heard conversations and stopped short, not announcing himself. He withdrew to a darker corner to hear what they were saying. Hermione's voice spoke.

"Really Ron, you ought to be more patient with Harry, he's always told us secrets when he was ready. Don't you remember the prophecy? He told us the exact wording sometime in March, nearly a year after Harry had heard it himself—"

"No, Hermione! I'm not going to wait a year for him to tell us what's bugging him!"

"Ron! You are being such an insensitive prat!" yelled Hermione.

_'Wow, they're fighting and I only just woke up… I'm amazed… arguing at such an early hour," _thought Harry, amused.

"Thanks Hermione," said Harry, walking to the table.

"Thanks Harry, see—Harry?" yelped Hermione, surprised. Ron stood up, knocking the chair over behind him.

"Harry! Wh—what's going on? Why are you down here?"

"Decided to have my normal breakfast with you two. Dobby, can you get us something to eat?" asked Harry, snapping Dobby out of his stupor.

"Yes, Harry sir! Dobby will get your breakfasts now!" With that, he snapped his fingers and the food appeared at the table. Harry nodded his thanks, and the three began eating. Only Hermione, and Ron were eating slower and conversing, but seemingly cautiously as if waiting for something to happen. But Harry didn't do anything out of ordinary. In fact, it was as if Harry had never holed himself up in his room.

"Harry, any particular reason why you suddenly want to be down here?" asked Hermione.

"Well, Ron was right about one part, I've holed up in my room for nearly two weeks. I had to come out sometime, don't I?"

"Ha! At least my words were worth something, eh, Hermione?" said Ron.

"Yes, I suppose so, Ron," said Hermione, smiling at least they seemed to be helping Harry. "So, what are you going to be doing today?"

"Er—well, see, that's sort of a—well, okay, I'm doing... an errand...er, that I will be doing," began Harry. Hermione and Ron immediately looked askance at Harry, waiting for him to continue his answer to Hermione's question. Harry took a deep breath and sighed. "I'm going to—well damn, I suppose I'll—I—" Harry couldn't believe he would have to tell him what transpired between him and Voldemort in order to tell them about eradicating any and all text books on Necromancy. Harry hung his head in defeat. It was only two weeks after the Final battle, and he had sworn to himself he wouldn't tell anyone.

"Actually, never mind, I'll just do it on my own," mumbled Harry, continuing on eating his breakfast. Ron nearly spat out his drink at Harry's answer.

"What do you mean, on your own? It's not anything dangerous, is it?" asked Ron, as Hermione scrutinized her emerald-eyed friend.

"No, no, not dangerous. Well actually, define dangerous, because I'm always involved with something that has to do with danger," said Harry in an almost sarcastic tone.

"Yeah, mate, you've got a point there…" said Ron.

"Does it have to do with fighting anything? Putting your life on the line?" Hermione questioned.

"I don't know about the putting my life on the line part, Hermione, I've gotten used to that," replied Harry. "But I'm not going to be fighting anyone or anything. Provided _they_ don't fight me."

"Then that's a dangerous situation!" cried Hermione. "Please tell us what you're going to do…"

Harry studied his friends for a long time, as he continued eating his breakfast, never breaking eye contact with them. He was trying to come up with an answer so that they could somehow help… He finally finished his breakfast and pushed the plate away from him. He enjoyed the nice scent of the pumpkin juice and drank it. Only after drinking, did Harry finally break the silence.

"I'm eradicating any and all text books on…"

"What, erasing information?" blurted Hermione.

"Hermione, do you want to know or not? You haven't heard my reasons," snapped Harry. "In fact, it has to do with the Final Battle. I'm still not sure if I'm willing to tell you or not!"

"I—I'm sorry, Harry," whimpered Hermione, shocked at Harry's behavior, She knew there were always some form of inconstancy that Harry had been forced to experience in his short lifetime. Harry knew both his friends were speechless; the air was filled with the antagonized need for him to continue what he was saying.

"Anyway, I know that trying to find the information I want gone is practically impossible to find all of it. It's universally recognized, but not very often practiced…"

"What do you mean, not very often practiced?" asked Hermione, curious. She was trying to figure out what had transpired in the last battle with the dark. Harry looked away from Hermione and continued.

"It was such a good bit of machination Voldemort came up with, it was almost flawless, I—I thought I wouldn't make it."

"But you escaped almost with no injuries, so how can you—"

"Please be quiet, Hermione!" said Ron, wanting Harry to continue. Hermione kept quiet, showing praise to Ron for interrupting her beginning of speech and waited for Harry to continue.

"Voldemort nearly succeeded in distracting me so he could kill me," said Harry.

"What did he do?" asked Hermione fearfully, dreading the worst case scenario.

_Flash back_

"How dare you take most of my faithful followers! They will never be able to experience my wrath since they're dead!" yelled Voldemort. Then he threw a paroxysm of wand movements around him in the graveyard. Dead Death Eaters and corpses from their Final Resting places stood up. The joints creaked as the rotting bodies moved and moved into a half-circle behind Voldemort. The bones of the dead were covered by old, dirty, torn cloths.

At the end of the large semicircle, Harry spotted his dead parents, crusts of skin attached to their bones. Organs spewing out randomly and back inside. Their brains were visible as they held by several threads of spinal cord from their necks. He hoped it wasn't them; they were nearly unrecognizable except for the familiar straggly hair they still had and the eyes… The horrible shrunken, shriveling, cold dead eyes…

_Flash Forward_

Harry stopped talking at that point, shaking visibly. He couldn't believe he had actually told them. He _told_ them, the damned secret! _'Damn, damn, damn! I'm _so_ screwed, damn, damn, damn…'_ He looked up slowly to see the look on his best friend's faces. The two shared the same look: surprise, shock, horror and sadness for their friend.

"Oh Harry," murmured Hermione, "T-that was Necromancy?"

Harry didn't say or move any parts of body to affirm Hermione's answer. He didn't need to answer anyway, he knew Hermione could figure it all out and piece things together.

"Is that what you wanted to get rid of?"

Harry finally gave a small nod. He saw Ron was paling faster than a new ghost could. He tried to speak but none of the words came out at first.

"Yeah, that's what I want to get rid of. I know it's an universal thought, who wouldn't want to control dead bodies? Though, in actually _doing_ the magic, Necromancy is rare. I know the only powerful wizard or witches can do that particular magical branch. So, since I killed Voldemort, it means _I_ can do Necromancy. If I can do it, then others, present or future, can do Necromancy as well," said Harry, slumping his shoulders.

"What do you mean, Necromancy?" snapped a voice entering the kitchen. Harry's blood grew cold as lead dropped deep in his stomach. The lump in his throat grew bigger. He slowly turned to face the person who had entered the room. Harry couldn't speak but tried to say something in his defense.

"Well? I don't have all day Potter!"

"S-Snape—you shouldn't have heard that," said Harry.

"So, _that's_ what you meant by bringing your dead parents back…" muttered Snape. Harry glared at him, wanting nothing more than to hex him to hell and back.

"What do you mean, what he meant by bringing dead parents back?" interrupted Hermione. Snape turned to her, sneering.

"Your friend here, slipped up only the day after he defeated the Dark Lord. Really, you should have listened to what he said. Now Potter, why did you decide to pay us such … confidentiality, when you wanted nothing more than to take that secret to beyond the grave?" Harry stood there resolutely, not giving up this fight. "Very well, carry on," said Snape, leaving the kitchen as someone else entered it with a confused look.

"What did you three do to piss off—three? Harry!" exclaimed Bill. "You're out of your room!"

"Yes, obviously," said Harry sarcastically.

"Well, at least you're okay," said Bill, unfazed by Harry's attitude as he made his breakfast of toast. "Are you three up to anything today?"

"Yes, running an errand," replied Harry, before the other two could say anything.

"Ah, that reminds me, there's something I have to take care of in one of the banks in Greece…" murmured Bill as he took the toast. "Take care of yourselves, bye!" He apparated away with a soft pop; Ron shook his head slightly.

"You'll have to forgive him Harry, he's been somewhat showing off a bit to us. And Fleur, I might add," said Ron, snickering. Harry grinned.

"What about Fleur?"

"You know Bill's teaching her English, right?"

"Yeah," replied Harry.

"He's impressing her with his knowledge of the English language and is using Greece as an excuse to leave to see her."

"Ah, I see," said Harry, grinning as well. "Well, I'm sorry but I have my task to take care of now." Harry went on, changing subjects. "Will you join me?"

"Yeah, but where would we begin?" asked Ron, somewhat at loss for words. "I mean, the texts you want to find to destroy are probably in a location as rural as the nearest star." But Harry and Hermione were imperturbable to Ron's comment about trying to find any of the books on the art of raising the dead.

"Oh Ron, don't act so petty, you do know I have granted permissions to use restricted and use any to my liking," said Hermione. Ron nodded, slumping his shoulders.

"You're right, but where would we begin?"

"We will begin to search all the libraries to find patterns for the findings of the books. Then we will…" she paused and turned to Harry with a questioning look. "How will we destroy the library books?"

"I'll just tell them I—actually, I don't know. We could do it privately and let the librarians worry for themselves."

"No Harry, that's rude!" said Hermione, wary of his attitude.

"Fine, how about I just buy the books?" asked Harry.

"That would work," said Hermione, nodding. Then she thought for awhile. "But how will we stop people who print them?"

"How do we know if there are any writers who are alive, still writes about how to be a necromancer?" Ron added.

"Well, that's what researching is for," said Hermione, with an air of her usual determination Harry recognized from Hogwarts.

"Yeah, you're right," said Ron sullenly and nodded in agreement with Hermione.

"Anyway Harry, you shouldn't do anything to make the situation worse—just buy the books," said Hermione meaningfully.

"Yes, yes, I know Hermione," said Harry, somewhat exasperated. "You really don't need to keep showing the intellectual speech of your conscience at every turn when I try to make a decision for myself. Can we just get going?" Hermione looked hurt, but nodded.

"First, to the Auror's library!" exclaimed Hermione.

"_You_ have permission to go there! Wicked!" exclaimed Ron excitedly.

"Of course I have the permission to use their library," said Hermione smugly. "Let's apparate to the Ministry of Magic. We can look up all records each library has that pertain to what we're looking for."

"The Auror's library has things like that?"

"Well, considering how dangerous and dark Necromancy is, I would have to say yes, let's go," she said, disapparating with a crack.

The two boys disappeared as well and reappeared in the Atrium Hall. Coincidentally, the ex-Minister of Magic was there, hands cuffed and held by two of the aurors. Harry gave a radiant grin; Fudge seemed really unhappy. He was also tilting back and forth on his feet, trying to get rid of his nervousness while the two aurors were talking about one thing or another. Hermione led the boys to the wand-weighing place. After they were done with that, the trio proceeded to the lifts.

After Hermione pressed the button, Harry waited to arrive on the ninth floor. He tried not to think anything from the Department of Mysteries. When they got off, Hermione spoke up as they all went down the stairs, past the court he had been held in, years ago.

"We will have to do some bit of _traveling_. The library isn't very easy to access."

Ron let out an incessant noise, grumbling softly about walking for a distance. Hermione was right, the library wasn't very easy to access as he had once thought. First, they had to go through a place to answer the password. Then, they had to avoid a number of dangerous obstacles.

In one place, the hallway seemed to act as if they were trying to check for any sinful feelings toward the books. Harry had to mask his intentions to burn the Necromancy texts by using Occlumency. He didn't need Hermione to give a reproachful lecture about not masking the feelings.

They reached the library at last. What Harry saw made him stop and Ron ran into him from behind. The sheer size was amazing. Then a voice spoke.

"State your names please." Harry felt dismayed that they were going to record the magical signatures of who came in and who left with books. Before he could say so, Hermione pressed her finger to her lips for the others to be quiet.

"Hermione Jane Granger, and I have two guests with me, Harry James Potter and Ronald Billlius Weasley," said Hermione, not concerned in the slightest. For that, Harry calmed down. "We have intentions to find all textbooks on Necromancy, including the index for books on Necromancy for all other books throughout the world. Muggle and wizarding alike."

"I will grant you your wishes," replied the voice and one section of the library glowed red and Hermione nodded. Harry felt he was back to his old amateur eleven-year-old self. The archiving of books were placed better than even of Hogwarts. He really hoped Hermione knew what she was doing. Or they would be royally screwed. Hermione pulled out the books were glowing red while she ordered Ron to get the blue book Harry saw in the other section of the library.

"That is the index book that will allow us to find all the books we can, for now," explained Hermione and Ron nodded. Ron walked off while Harry pulled out the glowing red books at one end opposite from Hermione. He was amazed and surprised at the sheer number of books on Necromancy. He felt a little guilty, getting rid of knowledge, but it was too dangerous for anyone to handle or wield. Then he remembered the fight with Voldemort and felt better. Yes, he knew this was for the best.

Ron came back with not only one suspected book, but five. He gaped not only because of the amount of books, but at the fact that on the spine of each book said _'Index on Necromancy,'_ and each book was over one inch thick. _Oh, there was much to do._ He frowned, there were just too many books.

"How are we going to get to all the books?" asked Harry, speaking out loud.

"I don't know, it's going to take us years, that's for sure," Hermione replied.

Harry furrowed his brow. There had to be a faster way to get rid of the books than going to one building to the next. He looked to Hermione for help but she, too, was thinking hard. She bit her bottom lip, concerned.

"If you have an idea, please tell me," said Harry quietly. Hermione looked at Harry, worry evident in her eyes.

"I know this idea won't be at all amenable, but… we—could ask other people to help."

"Wonderful! Why don't we announce my secrets to the world?" asked Harry sarcastically. "No, we have to do this ourselves."

"Harry, I'm only trying to help!"

"I know… I know…" gushed Harry.

They began pouring over the texts to see how many places they'd have to go. After what seemed like half an hour had passed, Hermione spoke up again in an exclamation.

"I don't believe it! There are 7,439 books on Necromancy, 4540 of those books is dedicated in telling you how to become a necromancer. This is bad, Harry."

Harry sat there, dumbfounded. Seven thousand, four-hundred and thirty-nine books? "How many places?"

His friend exhaled in irritation. "I reckon that there are around 3,400 places to go."

"This _will_ take years!" said Ron, horrified at the thought. Harry had to agree, unless they acted fast.

"Well, we have about fifty books on Necromancy right here, so that will definitely be a start." Harry said, half to himself.

"Hardly a number compared to how many are out there," said Ron bitterly.

"We have to look at the big picture, Ron," said Harry. Harry saw his friends think for a minute; Ron finally nodded.

"Yeah… the big picture. So, do we destroy those books now?" asked Ron. Hermione bit her bottom lip, apprehensive in destroying such precious books, but the knowledge _was_ power. Too much power. She sighed and nodded. Harry took his wand out, waiting for her signal of affirmation.

"Wait Harry. We have to mask the magic," Hermione stated, waving her wand. He found himself surrounded by a bubble of glowing green color. "That way, they can't detect any books are being destroyed, until it's too late."

"And when will that be?" asked Harry. Hermione smirked.

"We can leave the bubble, and we'll just head back out. By the time we're out of the Ministry, the bubble will disappear."

"But what about registering our names?" asked Ron, pointing out the vital information.

"That, I have already taken care of," she said, waving her wand again, she spoke some unintelligible words and some sparks flew out at the tip. "Now we're under a different name." Harry only blinked at her, now suddenly a bit afraid. Sure, he's taken down Voldemort, but there was Hermione, doing things so the _Ministry_ won't detect a single thing. And the way she was acting, _was_ a bit terrifying if he thought about it. Harry nodded, then he cast the fire spell.

_"Incendio,"_ said Harry, lighting the books on fire. "How long does the bubble last anyway?"

"About fifteen minutes, but since I put in more of my magic, it should last around thirty to forty minutes. Enough to make sure this place doesn't catch on fire _and_ allows us to get out of here."

_"Emflamare Protare,"_ said Harry, to prevent the fire from spreading from the now flaming books to other objects. "There, now we can get out." He left the library, followed by an amazed Hermione and Ron.

"Where did you learn that, Harry?"

"Oh, in one of the books before I had to face Voldemort for the second to last time," replied Harry. "Useful."

"Are you saying you've burnt something else like that?" Hermione asked.

"Something like that, yeah," replied Harry, as everyone worked their way back out to muggle London.


	6. Chapter 6

Third Edition  
Chapter 6

* * *

"So, where should we head to, now?" asked Ron after walking for several blocks in muggle London. 

"Well, isn't it obvious," began Hermione, "Diagon Alley! You'll buy all the books, won't you, Harry?"

Harry stared at Hermione askance, looked around in the street and slumped his shoulders. "Well, I suppose I will…"

"Oh Harry, for crying out loud, I bet you can buy _all_ the books in the world!" exclaimed Ron. Harry grinned sheepishly and nodded.

"You're right, never really cared for money in the first place," he said, walking into the Leaky Cauldron. "So, of course, I will forgo my money for er—our cause," he said, looking around with more suspicion, then grinned benignly, which set off Ron.

"What is it, mate?"

"Can't you be observant for once, Ron?" asked Hermione, but was still spooked by Harry's posture when she saw what he saw. "But why are you smiling like _that_ with Malfoy in here?"

"What, Malfoy's here?" snarled Ron.

"Oh come on, Ron, we never really had any fraught evidence that Malfoy's done anything," said Harry, his mood turned darker as he stared at Malfoy, his back to them. "But of course, we will have to be careful since he's such a charlatan…"

"You don't need to warn us, Harry," said Hermione. She grew alarmed when Harry made his way toward Malfoy. "Harry!" hissed Hermione, not raising her voice.

"I swear that Harry's got enough foibles to wear us down, Hermione…" said Ron tiredly. Hermione seemed to make herself smaller in size when she saw Harry talking to Malfoy, even initiating the first move.

_Harry's POV_

"Hey, Malfoy," said Harry neutrally. Before Draco Malfoy could react about Harry invading his space, Harry cut him off. "Shut up and listen here," he said coolly. "Oh, I know we don't have any evidence that you joined Voldemort, (Idiot, don't say that name!) nor do you bear any mark, so I'm asking _you _for something."

"Why should I even listen to you, Potter?"

"Oh Malfoy, we are on… a mission of sorts, and I know you have some connections."

"Are you saying that you're blackmailing me?" snarled Malfoy, nervousness showed in his eyes.

"Perhaps I am," answered Harry cheekily, grinning slightly with a feral hint. "Should you fail, I _will_ find a way to find out what crimes you have committed and kick you into Azkaban," he said so softly that Harry swore that Malfoy nearly missed what he said. Oh yes, Malfoy was certainly unnerved and skittish. "If you come and help without saying a word to anyone else, then I won't bother you for as long as I live."

"What is it you want, Potter?" growled Malfoy. Harry knew that Malfoy was alone in the wizarding world as he no longer had his goons and he couldn't care.

"We're decimating a certain type of book," said Harry quietly. "Destroying all of the books in this world that deals with one branch of magic."

"Are you mad? That's impossible!"

"Exactly, so I suppose I will need some help after all," Harry said, sighing. "We have over seven thousand books to find

"Really, the books are that rare?" asked Malfoy, raising an eyebrow. Harry stared at him, wondering if that amount of books _was_ small. Then he remembered when he was living in the muggle world, there were some books with _'millions of copies sold!'_ on the cover and he frowned at the memory.

"Well, the subject's not very often practiced," said Harry, not revealing _just_ what subject they were.

"Well, do tell me what kind of books you want to destroy if there are so few of them," said Malfoy. "I think I'd rather be in Azkaban than destroy knowledge."

"Sometimes knowledge is too much for anyone to handle. Malfoy, come with me and you will know why," he said coolly, the image of his raised parents flashing through his mind. Dispelling the picture by closing his eyes, he willed himself to drown into an abyss of darkness. Malfoy nodded melancholy as both walked back to where the other two were.

" Malfoy's coming with us?" asked Ron incredulously.

"Stuff it Weasley, it is not like _he_ gave me much choice!" snapped Malfoy, while Hermione stared at Harry, frowning.

"Don't tell me you blackmailed him," she whispered to Harry.

"What else was I to do, we'll be able to get all of the books with _his_ connections," said Harry, his chin pointing to Malfoy and back at Hermione.

"Oh, I suppose you are right, I just hope it's nothing too… extreme."

"Just tell me why I'm so valuable for your findings in whatever you needed to destroy," Malfoy said, then turned to Hermione, "and I'm surprised at you, Granger, you're willing to destroy all the books of a magical branch?"

"This one is a special case, Malfoy. Harry hasn't told you what we're going to find?" she asked, arching an eyebrow as the four entered Diagon Alley.

"No, he hasn't," he hissed, still waiting to know what Harry wanted to destroy.

"We need someplace where we won't be overheard…" said Harry, and then he spotted the perfect place. He grinned, leading the small group toward the Weasley Wizard Wheezes. Ron groaned.

"Why?"

"I'm sure Fred and George will let us borrow the backroom for a bit," said Harry lightly.

"You're right…" said Ron dejectedly as they entered the store. When Harry came up to the counter, one of the twins was hard at work, counting up the money.

"Hey," greeted Harry and the twin looked up and brightened.

"Harry! You're out and about!" exclaimed the twin. "You're here to buy something?" he asked, hopeful. Harry grinned and shook his head sadly.

"Sorry, whoever you are, but can we use the backroom real quick for a private discussion with Malfoy behind me?"

"It's Fred, by the way," he said, eyes narrowing at Malfoy, "Sure we'll let you use the backroom, George's in there making a new batch of Ton Tongue Toffee. I assume you want to talk alone and not be overheard?"

"Yeah, if that would be possible," said Harry, nodding.

"Alrighty, come on," said Fred, putting the money away and leading the group to the back of the store. "Oi, George!"

"Oi, Fred!"

"I need you to come out and wait a bit, Harry needs a private conversation with," he glared at Malfoy, "Malfoy about something."

"Sure, lemme clean up so it doesn't explode," said George. Once the twins cleared out and closed the door, Harry put up some silencing charms and other protections on the door and turned to face Malfoy.

"We're destroying the magical information of Necromancy," said Harry, getting to the point and bluntly.

"What, why? It's rarely practiced!" exclaimed Malfoy.

"Exactly, and I don't want a – a repeat of what I saw," Harry said darkly. "I don't ever want anyone to practice Necromancy, not ever again."

"Is that what happened between you and You-Know-who?" Malfoy asked, putting the pieces together. Harry stared long and hard at him and sighed, then he nodded at Malfoy. "What was so bad about it? It is not like he raised anyone you knew," the blonde said.

"Just shut up, Malfoy, and do what I say," snapped Harry. Malfoy arched an eyebrow at him.

"Since when can _you_ order me around?"

"Since I've black mailed you, in case you'd forgotten?"

"Well, I want to know why you want to destroy the knowledge of Necromancy."

"Because I saw my parents raising from the dead, chasing me for my flesh!" exclaimed Harry, getting angry. Malfoy raised both eyebrows in surprise.

"They're still intact?"

"Of course they are!" said Harry, not meaning to reveal _that_ information to Malfoy, of all people. "If you say so much as a hint of what happened in the Final Battle, I will send you to your own grave!"

Malfoy huffed, crossing his arms and glaring at Harry. "I see no reason why you would keep that a secret," he said coolly.

"What do you mean, you don't? How would you like having your parents raised from the dead solely to eat your brains!"

"I suppose I _would_ freak out, since my mother and I have something of a special bond…" he said softly. "But anyway, I'm not a person who puts himself in someone else's shoes."

"I can hardly imagine you doing such a thing as trying to understand other people, Malfoy," said Harry, sighing.

Malfoy stared at him for a few moments, weighing the pros and cons.

"Fine, I'll inure myself to destroy these books, if I must," snapped Malfoy, and Harry smiled crookedly.

"Good, I'm glad to hear that," said Harry quietly. Harry banged the door open and saw that the twins got knocked backward, sprawling on the floor with extendable ears products in their hands and their ear lobes.

"Bloody hell, Harry! We couldn't hear anything at all, what did you use? We had improved our extendable ears to work beyond any magical barriers…" said one of the twins, rubbing his behind from falling too hard.

Harry glared at the twins with intensity that both yelped and said "sorry's" as they went back to work. Harry shook his head, 'those twins!' He was glad he had put up a lot of magical barriers so that not even the newest version of the extendable ears worked. The twins stared at Harry with no hint in their expression of the luminous grins they were hiding, as the twins watched the others leave the store.

_Twin's POV_

The twins stared at each other as they listened to the conversation, hardly believing what they were hearing. They could hardly believe what Harry admitted to Malfoy and no one else except his best friends. Fred frowned while George tried to think of why Harry wouldn't allow anyone be privy to such information. Then they had their answer—now they knew why Harry wanted to destroy the books. After all, who would want anyone to be chased by someone who is out to eat your flesh and blood?

They had listened so hard that their interest had been their downfall as Harry pushed the door open, knocking both of them down. Luckily, George acted on his instincts and blatantly told a lie, mixing in some truth, hoping that Harry would fall for it. Indeed he did. But Harry spoke with such anger that the twins felt so bad for overhearing and lying to Harry. When the group left the store the twins stared at each other and nodded. Fred turned the sign over so that it said _'Closed, come back in half a hour.'_ Then George put up a charm that even the newest extendable ears couldn't penetrate. They had to have some spell that would do that, otherwise they could be sued.

"Well, Fred, what do you reckon?"

"Well, I don't know . But, we shouldn't have listened in their conversation," said George, frowning.

"Yeah, I know, but we never followed the rules, anyway... So, I suppose Harry is set out to do something about Necromancy, to destroy the books?"

"Can't be, there's too many…" said George.

"But that Malfoy said there's not many books…" pointed out Fred.

"You're right, Harry didn't disagree that there weren't that many books…"

"Well, do you think we should help them?"

"I don't know, perhaps we should…"

"But we can't let them know we've heard them talking," said Fred, pondering what they should do to help.

"Well," said George, smiling mischievously, "We could always create something that will call anything you need to come to you and whack people who are in the way off their feet."

"Brilliant! That's brilliant, George!" said Fred, grinning a feral smile. "Let's get down to work then."

The twins nodded and went into the backroom to begin experiments.

_Harry's POV_

He felt strange for some reason, after leaving the twin's store. He looked back and frowned when he saw the closing sign and shrugged. The group then went to the famous bookstore in Diagon Alley, Flourish and Blotts. Harry entered the store first and went straight to the counter.

"Good day to you, how can I help you?" asked the lady behind the cashier. "Oh, Mr. Potter!"

"Hello," greeted Harry quietly, looking around skeptically. "I have a favour to ask of you."

"Anything, what is it?"

"I need all of the books on Necromancy, including duplicates," said Harry quietly.

"Ah." She arched an eyebrow at the request but nodded as she went to find the books. Then she returned ten minutes later with ten books on Necromancy. "Do you want the books from the backroom?"

"Yes, please," said Harry. "And I want all of the books that can be sent here as well."

She blanched at him. "I can't do that, what if others want the books?" she asked.

"I don't care, I'll pay you a thousand galleons in advance if you forward any and all books on Necromancy," said Harry coolly. She sighed and nodded smiling slightly, happy that she would be getting a lot of money.

"Very well, how many books would you like then?"

"All of them, I don't want any of the books to be sold to anyone else," said Harry.

"What, deny them of their knowledge?" she asked, paling.

"Please, just do as I say, I'll pay you two thousand," he offered. She frowned again, wondering what exactly Harry wanted. "Okay, I'll pay you 500 galleons a month if you give me any of the books on Necromancy. If someone comes by and offers a million galleons, don't, I'll pay you triple whatever the amount the customer wants."

"You must be mad," she whispered, eyes wide as galleons.

"I wonder about that sometimes," said Harry, joking slightly.

She chuckled, shaking her head. "Whoever wants to buy the books you want will be not pleased," she said, writing the requests down and sticking it under the counter where other cashiers would see and refer to from now on.

"I know, I'm prepared for them," said Harry, sighing. "So, are there any books in the backroom?"

"Oh! Of course," she replied, leaving to get more books on Necromancy. Ron spoke up when she was out of hearing range.

"You're mental mate, _mental,"_ said Ron, eyes wide at how much Harry was willing to pay to get the books off anyone's hands.

"It is not like I don't have about a trillion galleons, Ron," said Harry. "If I didn't know any better, I probably am the richest guy in the world… the Ministry wouldn't hear me refuse the money. I don't know how much my parents left me, but it seemed with the Ministry amount, it's tripled…" he said, "or tenfold."

"Potter, why can't you obliviate them? I'm sure it'll save all the trouble," said Malfoy.

"How are they sending me the books that will surely come to them?" asked Harry.

"Ah, point taken,' said Malfoy as the lady came back with a box floating behind her.

"This is all I have found, Mr. Potter," she said. "Well, that will be two thousand galleons, Mr. Potter. Only five hundred are only the books, but since you are willing to pay a thousand for the request and five hundred for every month," she explained as Harry paid without thought. Harry heard some incoherent words coming out of Ron's mouth.

"Close your damn mouth Weasley, I'm tempted to stick a slug in it," Malfoy sneered as the memory replayed in everyone's mind. Ron snarled at Malfoy as Harry levitated the books out of the store and looked around for a secluded alley. When he found one, he led them there and put up a temporary wall so no one could peek in.

"Okay, shut up, you two," said Harry to Malfoy and Ron. "Now, let's burn these books."

"But should we really do that?" asked Malfoy, frowning.

"We've already destroyed about fifty books in the library at the Ministry, Malfoy," said Harry as he lit the books on fire.

"What, are you mad!"

"I've been asked that questions several times today already, so I suppose I _am_, so say something new," snapped Harry.

"The Ministry will be after you," he pointed out.

"We fooled the Library, Malfoy," said Hermione, almost smug.

Malfoy stared at her and then back at Harry. "I don't believe this… this _is_ mental…" said Malfoy softly.

Harry shrugged as he made sure that the fire would destroy all of the books.

"So, that was about two hundred books there, wasn't it, Harry?" asked Hermione, taking the reference book out and crossing something out with her muggle pen. "Well, we're getting closer," she said, grinning.

"Yeah, closer," said Ron glumly. "This will take _years."_

"No it won't, next stop, Knockturn Alley. This is where you come in, Malfoy," said Harry.

"What, where do you want to go?" asked Malfoy, watching the fire going.

"All of the bookshops in Knockturn Alley, in each and every nook and corner of it," said Harry.

Malfoy let out a hiss slightly, sighing. "Fine, last time I checked, there were about ten book shops in Knockturn Alley, and that was the summer before our seventh year."

"I see," said Harry, as the fire died away, leaving nothing but a pile of ashes. Then he cleared the ash away with a cleaning spell. "So, do you think there will be more or less?"

"Less because You-Know-Who's dead," said Malfoy, leading them out of the alley and toward Knockturn Alley.

When they entered, Malfoy immediately went inside a store which Harry followed in. When he looked around, he saw that there were less books than the book store in Diagon Alley. Harry automatically went up to the front desk and found someone organizing some data on the books.

"Hello, sir," said Harry, pulling the hood over his head closer to his eyes.

"Good afternoon, how may I help you?" asked the storeowner silkily, breaking away from his work.

"I have two favours to ask of you," said Harry, and the store owner arched an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.

"First, I want all of the books on Necromancy, including the duplicates and any books you have in the backroom," said Harry.

The storeowner nodded, getting the books Harry needed. After twenty minutes of getting the books, he returned with some twenty books.

"And the second favour?" he asked, setting the books down.

"Forward all the rest of the books on Necromancy to me, no other customer should have one. If they demand one and pay you at any cost of price, I will pay for the book thrice that amount of money requested," said Harry, shocking the storeowner. Then he recovered, nodding as he wrote the request down and set the parchment under the counter, same as the previous store had. "Thank you, and it is important that you keep this a secret as much as you can. By the way, send all the books to Harry James Potter."

The store owner thought he couldn't have been more shocked before, but found himself wrong. Then he once again recovered from his feelings and nodded as he wrote the name down on the parchment that was still under the counter.

"T-th-thank you Mr. Potter, have a g-good day," he stammered as Harry left the store. Again, he repeated what he had done earlier: go into a secluded alley way, put up a wall, burn the books and go to the next store. When Malfoy led them to all of the bookshops in Knockturn Alley, Hermione grinned at the numbers going down.

"We've destroyed a thousand already, in one day!" she exclaimed.

"Well, it will get harder from here on, though," said Harry, but he was pleased to hear that they were a thousand books down and only some six thousand to go.

"I quite agree," said Hermione.

"Well, do you need me still?" asked Malfoy, wanting to get away.

"No, I said we needed your _connections._"

"What do you mean?" asked Malfoy, glaring.

"What I mean is contact the people that your parents used to affiliate with, chances are, they have books, and there are some at your manor, I bet," said Harry as Malfoy sniffed.

"Well, I suppose I will have to do that, I don't have a choice, do I?"

" No, you don't. Don't forget," said Harry and Malfoy huffed.

"Fine, I'll write some letters to buy the books off them."

"Good, I'll pay for whatever amount they wish, though try to keep that to a minimum. Don't want all of my money to disappear within a month," said Harry.

Malfoy sneered but chuckled. "You're right, all right, I'll be fair and give you the letters so that you will be satisfied."

"I appreciate that. I suppose you'll head back home now?"

"Yeah, if you don't mind," said Malfoy, arching an eyebrow.

"Go home, we'll keep in touch on a daily basis," said Harry.

Malfoy rolled his eyes and nodded. Then he disapparated away. Hermione finally said what she had wanted to say ever since they spoke of blackmail.

"What did you blackmail him with?" hissed Hermione.

"Oh, a trip to the lonely island," answered Harry vaguely.

"You can't be serious!" exclaimed Hermione.

"You know I can do that, Hermione, you wouldn't believe how corrupted the justice is around here," said Harry coolly.

"And we don't _need_ you do just that!" cried Hermione as they head back out of Knockturn Alley. " By the way, do we have a minister yet?"

"No, dad said we don't," said Ron. "It'll be big news when someone takes over, though, with Madam Bones as the acting Minister…"

"Well, Madam Bones will be hard to get past," said Hermione. "She's good at finding evidence and such."

"Believe me, I can _easily_ find some evidence on Malfoy," said Harry. "Anyway, I promised that we would sever ties with each other if this errand was successful. Hmm, you still have the reference book?"

"Yes, I do, why?"

"Does it have the author names in it?" asked Harry.

"Oh! Yes, they do, hmm, we'll have to see who still writes them…"

"If we're lucky, all of the writers who wrote of the Necromancy branch are dead and long gone," said Ron sourly.

"You're right, Ron, I hope no one is still writing them…" said Hermione, "For all we know, the authors could be just as sporadic as the books."

"Yeah, and how will we prevent the experimentation? You know… From ever creating a new way of raising the dead…" Harry said, thinking.

"Well, it will be impossible if there's no legislation on that," said Hermione.

Harry soon realized just how hard this task would be destroying all of the books and preventing any new ones. He groaned, he didn't want anything to complicate such matters. Trying to stop people from creating new ways would be as improbable as trying to stop a baby from learning how to walk. Granted it was possible, but nearly impossible. Yes, it was crazy to try to anyway, he had not thought of all the smaller details.

"Well, let's go back home and get some dinner, we've missed lunch," said Harry.

Ron's eyes widened in horror. "I missed lunch!" he yelped, as Hermione and Harry laughed.

"We all got carried away, we'll have a large meal, don't worry," said Hermione as the three signaled to apparate away. Harry reappeared in the kitchen, in front of Mrs. Weasley, of all people.

"Harry! Hermione, Ron!" exclaimed Molly, hugging Harry. "I had wondered where you two went… and why are you here, Harry?"

"Oh, just on an errand…" said Harry. Mr. Weasley apparated in the kitchen, looking for Molly.

"Ah, Molly—Harry!" exclaimed Mr. Weasley, surprised to see him.

"Hello, Mr. Weasley," began Harry, Mrs. and Mr. Weasley waved him to stop.

"Please call us by our first names!" said Mr. Weasley, and Harry blinked but nodded uncomfortably.

"Okay, er—Molly… Arthur…" he tried the names.

"Good, good, anyway, there's an uproar at the Ministry, Molly," he said tiredly as he sat down.

"Really? What happened?" she asked, frowning as she sat down as well.

The trio risked a glance at each other, but covered up their nervousness, after what they had gone through for the past seven years.

"Someone came into the library and destroyed—about fifty particular books…" he answered, frowning at the mystery. "We tried to trace who did it but came up with three fake names. As far as I know, you can't fake your name at the Library of Ministry," he said, stroking his chin.

"What books?" asked Hermione fearfully.

_'Good acting Hermione…'_ thought Harry, grinning mentally.

"Books on Necromancy…"

Harry felt a sudden pang inside, and his eyes widened in realization. He groaned silently to himself, so not even his friends heard the noise. _What if this was released into the Daily Prophet?_ _The storeowners would most certainly report the suspicion to the Ministry…_

"…and honestly, I don't know why…"

Harry hadn't realized that Arthur had continued talking. He blinked and stared at his friends.

"Oh yeah, um, excuse me, I forgot something," said Harry, interrupting Arthur.

"Very well," said Arthur as Harry apparated back to Diagon Alley. He walked back into the bookshop and found the lady from earlier.

"Hello, Mr. Potter," she greeted him.

"Excuse me, but I need this store to keep silent about my business no matter what the papers report about anything at all. If you do keep silent, I will pay you an extra half million galleons if you all keep quiet for the rest of your lives."

"Wha—you are very strange, do you know that? But why would the paper say anything… particular?"

"Please, it is very important and I will explain everything one day," said Harry tiredly. "And I really hate publicity, too."

"Yes, I heard about that, you do hate being famous, don't you?" asked the lady.

"Yeah, so can you?"

"I'll see what I can do," replied the lady.

"Thanks, actually, I'll give two million galleons since this store has several employees who may, err—see the parchment under the counter. Also, can you make sure no one else sees it?"

"Of course," she answered, putting a charm on the parchment along with the new strange request. "Well, good luck."

"Thanks, I will really need that," said Harry, heading back out of the store and going into Knockturn Alley.

He promised to all of the storeowners there similar to what he had done in Diagon Alley, just less money since all of them only had one or two people owning and working at the store. Most of them had been reluctant but when they had heard the amount of money, they readily agreed. Harry hoped that he didn't need to oscillate between Grimmauld and Diagon/Knockturn Alley anymore. He apparated back home, finding the people there eating dinner.

'_Dinner a ready?__ Bloody hell…' _thought Harry.

"Ah, you're back, where did you go?" asked Molly, serving him dinner as Harry sat down next to Hermione.

"Just on an errand that I forgot to do," replied Harry. He couldn't afford to make any kind of mistake. Merlin only knew how long he could keep this a secret.

"So, what's going to happen at the Library, any replacements?" asked Harry as he ate his dinner.

"Actually, the funniest thing is we couldn't order any new books…" Arthur answered, frowning. "Someone had bought them all off them and the shops refused to give us any of the incoming books, no matter how much, said that the person would pay triple the amount…I have a feeling whoever that is, is trying to ally with the dead …"

The three Gryffindors stared at each other worriedly, to others, it was interpreted as being worried that someone could try to raise the darkness again. The three knew better, they were worried for a different reason—being caught.

"I hope we catch the culprit sooner or later," said Arthur, as everyone fell into silence, eating their dinner.

Harry thought of the Ministry, if they could pay Harry the amount he had gotten, then it was obvious that the Ministry would have much more money. Growing concerned about _that,_ Harry signaled his friends to come upstairs.

"Thanks for the dinner, Molly, the three of us have something to discuss so I'll leave you two here," said Harry, getting up from his seat as the others followed suit.

When they reached Harry's room that had been locked for a good number of weeks, Harry got his key out. After he entered his room, he made the door so that no one could hear inside, except for, of course, the newest version of extendable ears, Harry did not know that yet.

"We're doomed," said Ron as he saw that they were safe to speak.

"No, we're not, Ron," said Hermione. "But this is bad, Harry, what did you do when you left again?"

"Bribed all the shops to keep silent no matter what the papers said, Or the Ministry for that matter," answered Harry. The two others stared at each other and at Harry.

"But what about the Ministry? Surely they will have more than enough money to buy all the books, far more than you would have…"

"Actually, for some reason, I have a feeling they won't go beyond their budget when it comes to buying books," said Harry.

"Mmm, I suppose that would be true…" said Hermione quietly.

"And on top of that, don't forget the Ministry is in shambles as well," said Ron, and Harry nodded.

"Exactly, so whatever they report in the newspaper, headlines or not, it'll be forgotten within a few weeks. I'm sure people will notice the books disappearing and will try to find out who it is… taking them," Hermione stated.

"I know... hmm, I think we should get back to work, try to find the rest of the books. I have a feeling that if it _is_ reported, other people won't be as likely to give the books…" said Harry.

"You're right, Harry, we better get back to work, hopefully we'll get all the books that are in stores and libraries, we'll get the private ones later," agreed Hermione as the three nodded. "Where to, Harry?"

"Hogsmeade," answered Harry, and the trio apparated away with three pops.

Harry had felt somewhat freed as he had destroyed the books earlier today, it was a way to absolve his guilt and eradicate the knowledge that should never be learnt. After talking about the books in the bookstores in Hogsmeade and destroying the tomes they were after, the three secretly went to the most famous library in wizarding England, Hogwarts' Library.

"Oh, I really hope Madam Pince isn't there," moaned Hermione as they entered the castle.

"I have a feeling she is away on vacation…" said Ron.

"Yeah, she can't always pour over books every day in the summer, can she?" asked Harry.

"I don't know, Harry, I would," said Hermione, grinning to indicate that she was joking.

"Blimey, Hermione, I hope not!" exclaimed Ron, laughing as the three entered the surprisingly unlocked library.

Madam Pince wasn't in her usual desk chair. "Well, she's not here," said Ron.

"Good, first place we ought to check is the restricted section," said Hermione.

"And can you tell me why you want to use the Restricted Section?" asked a voice behind the three.

The gang gulped in nervousness, they had not expected that voice, of all people.


	7. Chapter 7

"The… Final Battle?" she asked softly, her eyes growing soft. Harry nodded in answer and sighed. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked quietly.

"That's just it, Minerva, I've told my friends and it was hard enough," said Harry.

"I see…"

"So please, I really have to impose; importune you to stop asking questions," said Harry. She stared at him for few moments and nodded, heaving a sigh.

"Very well, I will stop badgering you, Mr. Potter—Harry," she said in an undertone of a voice. She left the room to their devices, Hermione sighed, almost of relief.

"Well, lets get to the Restricted Section," said Hermione, as Harry got up from his seat wearily. She walked to the end of the library and found the door leading into Restricted Section. After spelling the door unlock, the three entered. After ten minutes of searching the shelves, Ron quietly shouted.

"Here they are, Hermione, Harry!" Harry immediately went to the shelves dedicated to Necromancy and mentions of them.

"Good finding Ron," said Harry, grinning. "We'll have to move fast, since Minerva saw us, and will surely piece things together that we're destroying the books."

"You're right!" said Hermione, widening in realization. "We really have to move fast," Harry nodded, taking the books off the shelves that were either dedicated to Necromancy or contains a chapter or two on them. Then Harry set the book in the other aisle where it had bigger room. Hermione spelled the fire onto the books as Harry set the spell so that the flames won't spread.

"Let's go," said Harry, leading the other two out of the library. On their way out, to his dismay, found Severus Snape heading inside the castle. He grew suspicious of Harry, Hermione and Ron and walked over to where they were.

"What are you doing here?"

"None of your business Snevillius," growled Harry, walking past Snape.

"Potter! Stop right there, five po—damn, Potter, stop walking! _Stupefy!"_ Harry snarled and dropped to the floor and rolled out of the way of Snape's spell and fired with his own.

"_Petrificus totalis!"_ He missed as Snape stepped to the side to dodge. "Leave me the hell alone! We're busy, Snape."

"Busy doing what?" he sneered, "I can hardly comprehend _you_ being busy after you have graduated."

"This is none of your business, Snape," he quietly said, growling.

"Why are you discomfiting me, Potter? As far as I can tell, you have large amount of hapless luck, that I daresay, is my business Potter," he said, wand still trained on Harry as he did on Snape, along with Hermione's and Ron's, who looked much braver than they had in school. Maybe it was because they won't be getting any detention. Even though, Hermione looked terrified. "You know I can easily conjecture what you three are up to, it was never hard," he drawled with a sneer.

"Then find out that way if you want, I much rather you to find out as everyone will," said Harry coolly, "than finding out right now, Snevillius."

"_Expilliarmus!"_ roared Snape, as Harry was ready for him as he shouted.

"_Protego!" _He blocked the disarming spell with a resounding crack. "Please Snape, I don't _have_ the time to be playing around," drawled Harry, walking away from him, his front facing him. He wasn't about to turn around on Snape. When he finally reached the Entrance Gates, he let out the last spell to distract Snape.

"_Reducto!"_ he yelled, causing the door to Snape's left to reduce into shards, falling on Snape. Harry quickly pulled on the doors and led his friend out of there as Ron kept cover from Snape as they continue to run off the grounds. When they reached past the gates, Harry quickly said to apparate to Shrieking shack. As soon the three stepped off the threshold of anti-apparation grounds, the three disappeared with resounding cracks. The three had apparated on different floors so, it took Ron and Harry to get back to the first floor where Hermione was waiting.

"Damn that Snape," said Harry, panting. "You know, this place should be the refuge to take when we are being chased," he said, thinking.

"That's a great idea Harry," agreed Hermione and Ron nodded.

"Then it's settled."

"Okay," began Hermione, pulling the reference book out and jotted off the list they had gone through. "Next, the general libraries all over Europe…. I think we—" she hesitated, "we should split up and bring the books back here." Harry frowned, thinking.

"Just the libraries? What about the book stores?"

"Actually, you will be doing the stores, Ron and I can do the libraries," she said, thinking what the next course of action the trio should take.

"I hope that course will be impeccable enough not to trace back to us…." Said Ron quietly.

"I don't think that will be possible," said Harry quietly. "Minerva and Snape saw us at Hogwarts. No doubt they will piece things together. Though I don't think they _would_ report to the Daily Prophet or anything of the sort…. After all, I had mentioned it was about the Final Battle…"

"You are really espoused about this Harry," said Hermione.

"What else do you expect?" asked Harry with a wry grin. "I can't wait for the time when Necromancy knowledge is defunct as the dead people," he murmured. "Anyway, which country should we do first?"

"Well, we've taken care of Scotland and England," began Hermione, looking over the books. "We should do France next; there are no bookstores in Norway, Netherlands or in Sweden, Finland, Albania, and Hungary. Nor are there in Luxembourg, Poland, Azerbaijan, Bosnia-Herzegovina, Portugal, Lithuania, Andorra, Liechtenstein, Vatican City," she paused as she ran her finger down the list. "In Belgium, Germany, Romania, Monaco, Serbia and Montenegro; Switzerland and Ireland are the countries with most bookstores and libraries, each have five bookstores and two libraries each... There is only one bookstore in each of the other countries and less than five bookstores as well. There are thirty-one different countries including all the nadir places, to go through."

"At least the books aren't as omnipresent as we thought," murmured Ron.

"Yes, according to this, England had the largest amount of Necromancy books until today…,"

"I wonder why," said Harry with sarcasm, but Hermione ignored the tone.

"I suppose it is because there are a lot more Death Eaters, they're condensed in this country after all," theorized Hermione, looking through the list. "Mm, there are twenty bookstores in Asia with forty-six libraries. Twelve bookstores and six libraries in Australia. No books on Necromancy in Africa, two bookstores in South America and one library. In North America, there are sixteen bookstores and eight libraries…" Suddenly Ron didn't look so languish as he had before.

"That's a lot better than I had thought there would be Hermione," said Ron, brightening. "Imagine, if each continent except for Africa has at least one hundred books, we'd be down by two thousand by tonight…" then he frowned. "The rest are in people's home…."

Harry realized the predicament that they are in and frowned. "That's not good, that must mean at least four thousand different homes have the books… But of course, Malfoy would help in take a lot more numbers down on them… Hmm, I wonder if I can…" he trailed off, thinking. "No… not now," he murmured.

"What is it Harry?"

"Well, I was thinking of using Malfoy as a scapegoat of sorts…" he said slowly.

"What, I can't believe you Harry! You mean to say to frame him?" asked Hermione in horror. "That's…. that's positively Slytherin of you Harry."

"Don't you remember that the hat wanted me in there in the first place?" asked Harry coolly. Hermione blinked her mouth in 'oh'.

"You're right, I remember you saying that last year," said Hermione, fidgeting. "Still that doesn't—"

"Please, I was only thinking Hermione," interrupted Harry with perfunctory. "If we do that, I'm sure the mess with Malfoy will get to the point where everything will be irreparable and I sure as don't want him in Azkaban… right now anyway."

"How do you know if Malfoy won't be mendacious to us in this… cause?" asked Ron.

"Believe me Ron, I'm sure he doesn't want to go to Azkaban and he _knows_ I can send him to Azkaban with the snap of my fingers. As I had done with Fudge, and the other Death Eaters."

Ron slumped into a nearby seat, nodding, though with jerky movements. "Okay, so Hermione, according to you, we have to get to which country for Europe?"

Hermione looked through the list again, "The countries we will have to do, are: Monaco, Germany, Ireland, Serbia and Montenegro, Switzerland, Romania, Belgium, Austria, Spain, Croatia, Czech Republic, Malta, Denmark, France, Georgia, Latvia, Macedonia, Belarus, Moldova, Italy, Bulgaria, San Marino, Estonia, Slovakia, Slovenia, Turkey, Greece, Iceland, Armenia, and Ukraine, from greatest to least amount of books." She said, catching her breath as she had spoken all in under one breath. Harry and Ron stared at her in awe.

"You never seem to catch your breath, do you?" asked Ron, dumbstruck. "You really need to be more laconic, Hermione."

"Why, I can't do that, saying less is just not as good," said Hermione, sounding insulted.

"Give it up Ron, she's not going to be regenerated anytime soon," said Harry. "Anyway, let's get going, I'll take care of the bookstores and you two, the libraries. To France, we come. So, can you tell me which town to go to, Hermione?"

"Paris and Nice," replied Hermione, looking over the book again. With a nod, Harry disapparated. For the rest of the afternoon, the trio went through most of Europe except for Switzerland, Austria, Belgium, Iceland, Romania, Spain and Turkey. By nine in the evening, with numerous amounts of apparating and disapparating all over Europe, did they finally stop their errand for the night. To say that they were exhausted, is an understatement.

"I swear this is tantamount to fighting a Death Eater," said Ron, complaining as he sank down into a poor chair that broke under his weight. "ARUGH! That's it!" snapped Ron, getting up and kicked the broken chair out of the way, looking cranky and an odd mixture of plaintive.

"Calm down, Ron, we'll have a nice long bonfire right here," said Hermione, as Harry spelled over two thousand books on fire with the fire containment spell. "Anyway, Harry, I think you should requite the wizarding world for what we are doing. They deserve to know. Especially if we are to embark upon the next array of action after the countries we still need to do and of course, other continents," interpolated Hermione, nodding to herself.

"I don't want gregarious of people to be complaining or whatever the reaction they will have, I don't want to hear any of it," groused Harry.

"Don't be so petulant, Harry, you do need to be realistic, do you think everyone is just going to sit there and do nothing while we destroy all of the books? They will speculate that someone will want to do some serious Necromancy," said Hermione harshly, stepping away from the fire that was getting too hot.

"Hermione, believe me, I am cognizant about that," said Harry, feeling weary as he watched the fire blaze. "Um Hermione, don't you think people in Hogsmeade wonder about the smoke?" Then no one spoke as his words sunk in.

"Oh shit," said Hermione, widening eyes in shock, he wasn't sure if it was due to realization or the fact that she swore. "Let's get back to Grimmauld now before someone comes," the other two nodded in affirmation and they all disapparated back to Grimmauld, escaping any smell of soot or ashes.

"Let's go to my room so that we won't look so suspicious," said Harry, looking at Ron and Hermione's hot face, due to so much fire. When they went to Harry's room, the three sat down, either on the bed or in a chair. Harry spelled the door so no one can eavesdrop on them. "Well, it's been very productive, how many books were destroyed today Hermione?" he asked as Hermione pulled out the reference book and did a quick math, thanks to her Arithmancy lessons.

"Wow, we did more than we have predicted we would do," she said, grinning as she closed the book.

"Well?" asked Ron agitated.

"Three thousand, four hundred and twenty nine books have been taken cared of, today," she replied, smug that they have a great start, though hesitant because it was _books_, which she treasured dearly.

"Definitely a good start," said Harry, grinning and happy of their good start. "Though, tomorrow, when we get to the rest of the world, it will get harder to get. I suspect the news will report about the 'missing' and hard to get books to appear tomorrow. I'm sure it will contain some stupid canards facts but they will have the gist of things. It is deign to be difficult so, don't let today fool our senses," said Harry with contrite. "Plus, they're going to report that much of Europe have been… robbed of the books as well."

"Agreed Harry," said Hermione, nodding. Then someone knocked on the door, rather loudly which caused everyone to jump in fright.

"Hello? Anyone in there? Hey, let me in!" yelled the voice that belonged to Snape.

"Honestly Severus, you shouldn't knock that loudly!" reprimanded another voice, which Harry knew must be Minerva. There were other voices speaking as well. Harry, Ron and Hermione swallowed gulps nervously.

"I think we're caught," said Harry lamely. Ron nodded, paling as his freckles stood out even more.

"Should we let them know we're in here?" asked Ron nervously, but grew even more panic as another voice answered.

"You will bloody well let us in!" yelled one of the twins.

"Wha—" began Harry. "But I spelled the door from eavesdropping!" said Harry angrily, clenching his jaw. This was all becoming so abstruse; he didn't know what to think. He was seriously feeling very affronted about the people outside his door. He felt that they had been spewing out some machinations to find out the cold, hard truth from Harry James Potter himself. His rage seethed throughout him and his friends grew more alarmed.

"Harry! Calm down or you will hurt yourself or us!" exclaimed Hermione as one of the cups on the desk broke into shards, causing the two to panic. Harry ignored the two and walked to the door and threw the door open, catching all of them by surprise and began to panic when they saw the state Harry was in.

"Leave the bloody damn me alone!" roared Harry, his magic pouring out of him, causing all of the portraits, doors and vases in sight to explode. He didn't care about his façade anymore; all he wanted was some peace and quiet. Will he ever get that, at this rate? He knew he wouldn't and it had seriously pissed him off. He didn't care if his actions would cause any opprobrium in the near future.

"If you so as much as to try and find out what happened between me and Voldemort so badly, leave the damn me alone and you will find out eventually! LEAVE!" The people gathered at the door stared at him in fright, but did not move. Arthur spoke up meekly.

"Harry…" he began, "I—this isn't about that—"

"Of course it does! You just do not know it!" yelled Harry. Snape took the preempt and spoke up next.

"Potter, do shut up and listen to me," he growled. "This is about the books you destroyed at the library at Hogwarts."

"Oh-ho, now we're getting somewhere, leave the bleeding me alone," he snapped, repeating his _harsh_ request to the people he considered family, and one he considered an archenemy. "Don't, just don't assume the thoughts on that right now," he said in a slightly calmer voice. "All will be explained: _later._"

"So you do know what is going on with the books at the Ministry," said Arthur, frowning.

"I said nothing of the sort about that," said Harry coolly.

"I'm sure you do perceive, considering that all of the books that are disappearing, are on Necromancy. Not to aver that the Shrieking Shack had an immense flames and large amount of ashes, along with smoke. I'm certain the three of you can discern of what has transpired within the Shrieking Shack, no?" drawled Snape, glaring daggers at the three newly-graduated students.

"So what if we have anything to do with that, sir?" asked Harry, glaring daggers straight back at the Potions Master.

"T-then, Harry, what's going on?" asked Arthur, frowning. "Why—?"

Harry growled at Arthur, glaring at him which caused him to shut up with fright. Harry sighed, "Sorry, but really—do you really want me to announce to the world what happened so I can get everyone to comply with me?" asked Harry with sarcasm. "No, I really don't," said Harry.

"Of course I—we don't!" said Tonks, "we don't want that, Harry."

"See, so please just bear with me here," said Harry, but something rammed him against the wall. "Augh!" yelped Harry, growling as he realized that Snape pushed him against the wall.

"Severus!" yelled Molly Weasley, "don't treat him like that!" Snape ignored her as he stared Harry in the eyes.

"Potter, you will enlighten other people or _I _will inform them," threatened Snape, eyes glowering at Harry who felt betrayed. Harry's lungs heaved angrily.

"How dare you, _how_ dare you Snape, I don't believe this," said Harry. "Y-you're betraying my trust, and of all people. _You're_ threatening to tell them!" Snape only glared at him, no sign of sneer or smirk. Harry spat his snot at Snape, causing everyone to catch off guard as Snape yelped in surprise and in disgust as he stepped ten paces away from Harry.

"POTTER!" roared Snape, using his wand to clean his face. _"Expilliarmus!"_

"_Protego!"_ yelled Harry, deflecting the disarming charm.

"How dare you, no revere at all, _no_ sense of decorum!" growled Snape. Harry put his wand down at his side slowly, eyes trained on Potions Master. He sighed, admitting defeat.

"Fine, I give up," said Harry quietly, his feelings damaged, soul wounded and in withering emotional pain. His pride was punctured and humiliated by the Potions Master. After this, no…he could still run away into the muggle world. No, he owned his only family an explanation, one he doesn't want to face. Yet, the prospect of just hiding in the muggle world sounds like a grand idea. Shaking himself out of reverie, he looked at the people he considered family. He really owed them a clarification of what's been going on.

In his quietest of voice, he spoke, "I'm destroying Necromancy books because the sheer branch of Necromancy is far more horrifying than the Unforgivables itself, in my opinion. My parents… they were raised from the dead, with the aid of Voldemort's power. Even when I defeated him, they were still walking without the aid of his magic. I…had to destroy them. There were no more bodies left of dead Death Eaters or my parents or any other corpses. Watching my parents turning into dust as I destroyed them…"

"Oh Harry…" murmured Molly, moving toward him, eyes glistening in tears. Harry moved away from her, shaking his head.

"Please, just keep your distance from me," requested Harry, his eyes more pronounced with haunted look.

"So, is that why you wanted to get rid of Necromancy, any form of the magical branch?" asked Arthur Weasley. Harry looked at him, and slowly nodded, his heart wrenching with pain and sorrow as he recalled the events. When will he ever move on? "You should have asked us Harry, we would have helped you…"

"Really, destroying any evidences of how to learn the branch of Necromancy?" asked Harry, quirking an eyebrow. Arthur hesitated and then he nodded in answer.

"You have a perfect reason Harry, besides, I don't see why we have to keep the branch. We could easily make Necromancy another one of the Unforgivables," said Arthur. Harry sighed, feeling slightly better, but his feelings were still betrayed by Snape. "Well, I suppose we can take a breather then, we don't have to worry about anyone becoming the next Dark Lord when the books started disappearin—"

"Arthur Weasley!" growled a voice from the end of the hall, coming toward the small group. "We have something of great importance. Most of Europe are claiming that Necromancy text books are disappearing," reported Mad-Eye Moody. Silence followed as they stared at Harry. "Potter, I see you're out and about… what's going on here?" gruffed Moody, glaring suspicious looks at Snape who had his wand trained on Harry as Harry had a strange haunted look in his eyes.

"Ahem, well, about that, Mad-Eye," began Arthur, clearing his throat uncomfortably. "We know why the books are disappearing."

"It has to do with the last battle with Voldemort," explained Harry wearily. "It was rather horrifying to say the least, I can't really begin to describe the abhorrence of necromancy. Sheer monstrosity of the magical branch far outweighs to even the Unforgivables, again, in my opinion."

"Even the Unforgivables, Potter?" exclaimed Moody, his electric blue eyes spinning in the socket. "What _had_ happened between the two of you?"

"If you so badly want to know the exact details of my battle, why we all visit the Pensieve?" asked Harry hotly, glaring at everyone.

"N-no, not that Harry, we only—c—" began Hermione, fidgeting.

"Yes, why don't we do that?" sneered Snape as Harry stared at him in horror and disgust that Professor—no—_Snape, Greasy git, **Snivellius**_ wanted to violate his privacy, of all things. His nostrils grew large in anger, his fists clenching. He could not stand the man before him, not anymore. The sheer stupidity that his old Professor wanted him to do, was definitely appalling. Harry whipped his wand back at Snape and before anyone could react.

_"Crecia Memoria!"_ The spell hit Snape in the face straight on, sending him into the wall with loud crash as everyone yelped or screamed Harry's name. He kept his wand trained on Snape, to keep tormenting him with the worse memories he could experience. It was one of the spells he had learned while in self-exile for past few weeks. The spell had the same effect as the dementors themselves. Only they were not required to be in the presence of torturing the mind.

He enjoyed watching the horror on Snape's face, and some sorrow and plaintive. Snape's face showed full of trepidation, panic and terror. Harry vaguely felt hands trying to pull him away from Snape but he was far too strong. All of the years he spent training for the war had outran any of the duelist, even the Mad-Eye Moody himself. He didn't care what everyone else had thought about Harry. He vaguely heard Hermione screaming for him as she tugged at him. He ignored her, he was far excessively tired of Snape's insulting, impertinent words. Then he broke the spell after what seemed an hour, but in reality, only two minutes. Harry growled and went back into his room and closed the door with a loud slam. He went to his bed and buried into his pillow, muffling his screams that he was sure only Ron could hear as everyone else still stood in the hallway.

* * *

Read and Review please. 


	8. Chapter 8

The next day, when Harry woke up, he couldn't find the will to drag himself out of the bed. Ron had left sometime after Harry fell asleep, once being exhausted of screaming and the activities they had done. He only wanted to stay in his room, not leaving the bed for anything. Then he remembered the conquest in eradicating the Necromancy knowledge, he groaned mentally and sighed loudly at the thought. Would he ever get any peace?

Harry finally had got out of his bed, grumbling some insults to himself about a certain Potions Master as he rubbed his right shoulder. He _had_ rammed him into the wall yesterday, and it hurt. Though, he wasn't about to show that he was in pain to the others. After satisfying himself of bearable pain, he left the room to the kitchen. He was suddenly bombarded by the hugs of Molly Weasley who was murmuring some words to Harry, in which he couldn't hear, only because she was muffling the words into his shirt. Rolling eyes to himself, he didn't want to be coddled right now and politely pushed her away.

"Morning Mr-Molly," said Harry, "I'd like something to eat now."

"Of course, Harry," said Molly, sniffling silently, walking back to the oven. Harry found a seat next to Ron, waiting for his breakfast to be served.

"Morning mate," said Ron, drinking his orange juice. Harry nodded his head in assent to his greeting. "What're we going to do today?"

"Well, finish getting the rest of the books, of course," replied Harry. Ron nodded, clearly not appearing to enjoy this. Harry supposed it was because he wanted to do something else; such as playing wizard's chess. _'Honestly, we're not students anymore, we can't be playing chess all the bloody time. Though, I should do something than just going after those damned books,'_ thought Harry as he accepted his plate of food from Mrs. Weasley. He dug into his breakfast, remembering what countries they had to go to next.

"Harry?" asked Molly tentatively.

"Hmm?" responded Harry, looking up as he swallowed his scrambled eggs.

"Are you going to… ask anyone else for help? I mean, who's helping you?"

"Well, obviously Ron and Hermione," she nodded, "then there's Malfoy too…"

"Malfoy!" whispered Molly urgently. "Why did you include him?"

"He has… connections that we don't," then Harry's face grew stern. "Don't worry Molly, we won't let him do anything out of the line. I can assure you," said Harry, taking another bite into his pancakes.

"Well, he would, but what if he won't let you have the books?"

"He won't, he knows what 's he is risking," said Harry. _'Such as a ticket to Azkaban,'_ finished Harry in his mind. Molly looked unconvinced but left the issue alone. Grateful for the silence, he finished his breakfast just as Hermione, Snape and Minerva came into the kitchen, all looking rather unhappy.

"Hey, morning Harry," acknowledged Hermione, nervous clearly shown in her eyes. Harry arched an eyebrow, waiting for them to explain why they were nervous.

"Potter, we're here to discuss… your bid in getting rid of a certain branch of magic," drawled Snape.

"Is that a bad thing, Snape? Is that what you're trying to say?" snipped Harry, glaring.

"Yes, of _course_ it's a bad thing, hiding your _little_ secret from others, causing world wide panic!" replied Snape, gathering volume with each word and literally spitting in Harry's face. Feeling threatened, Harry roughly shoved Snape away from him, his space _was_ being invaded.

"Get the hell away from, me Snivellius! I don't need you to be in my personal space to have your shouting matches!" said Harry angrily. He had enough of those shouting matches with his Uncle and he wasn't about to tolerate with this _man_ before him, especially since that he can finally stop cowering before him. Snape, Harry observed, was increasingly getting angry, _'seething's, more like,'_ Harry thought wryly. He had to admit it was fun riling particular professor up. He saw this as one of the many payments for seven years of unnecessary suffering in Potions class.

"Potter, I don't tolerate your arrogance!"

Harry arched an eyebrow, "Is that the best you can say? I'm disappointed," said Harry with mock dejection in his voice. Snape mumbled something rudely at Harry's response, then spoke more articulately, trying to have some semblance of order.

"We need to get back to the original topic, Mr. Potter. As you _so_ kindly derailed my thoughts," he said, sarcasm evident in his voice.

"Oh, so now you're blaming me for going off topic, are you?" asked Harry coolly, purposely adding more fuel to the fire. He had to use a great amount of self-control to not grin at Snape, let alone snicker. Snape ruffled himself slightly, biting back a yell that Harry was sure he wanted to bellow.

"Shut up and listen, Potter, as Ms. Granger have told me how far you have gotten in your quest. I am quite sure you will need other people's… _help_, in getting older tomes that are harder to find. Certainly, there are hidden libraries, homes and unknown bookstores."

Harry raised his right eyebrow at this, "Are you helping me, Mr. Snape?" asked Harry. Snape gave an assent of his head in the slightest movement possible. "Well, I suppose more help will be appreciated," said Harry, sighing. "Where's the _Daily Prophet_?"

"Right here, Harry," said Hermione, slightly relieved that there wouldn't be another fight breaking out. Harry took the newspaper from her and Hermione nearly squeaked in nervousness.

"…Thanks," said Harry, staring at Hermione and at Minerva whose face had gone pale. "Right, now, if that is all, I need to eat my breakfast," said Harry, sitting back down at the table. He opened to the front page as he drank his orange juice. Once he read the headlines, he spit out his drink in anger. He stood up, pointing angrily at the paper.

"WHO TOLD THESE IDIOTS THAT I AM GOING AFTER THE BOOKS!" bellowed Harry and everyone in the room winced. "WELL!"

"Harry, calm down, there's no nee—" Hermione began hesitantly.

"Calm down? _Calm down, _Hermione!" asked Harry incredulously. "But someone sold us out! I need to know who told the bloody _Daily Prophet!_" Hermione looked at Minerva who looked at Snape, the two of them looking nervous and Snape looked as cool as ever. "Was it one of you?" asked Harry, eyes widening in unbelievable horror.

"No it wasn't, Harry," said Hermione quickly. "It's… just that we found out that one of the bookstore owner haven't kept it quiet…" Harry groaned loudly at this. Before Harry could ask who it was, Minerva answered for him.

"It was one of the bookshops in Knockturn Alley," she said, frowning. Harry's fists clenched angrily. "One called Domorvis's Books."

"I'm leaving," said Harry tightly. While still holding fast to the _Daily Prophet_ and Harry disapparated to Knockturn Alley before any of them could even say 'no, don't go!' Harry knew where the bookstore was at, it had been the store next to Borgins and Burkes store where he was first introduced to this particular Alley. Harry stormed into the bookstore, finding the same person as the previous day. Reaching the counter, he slammed the paper on the table, snarling.

"Explain this!"

The owner visibly shook with nervousness, staring at the paper in fear. Harry felt satisfied for seeing him behaving scared. "I… I can explain," he began.

"You better well have a good reason to rat me out! Or, help me Merlin, that you do live long to see today's sunset!"

"Th-they offered more money than you have offered me in keeping it silent…" Harry wore a face of bafflement at the answer.

"Are you saying," Harry said calmly as he could, to create the effect of spookiness. "That my offer for each and every month was unsatisfactory?" He did succeed in terrorizing him even more.

"I… I… I'm so sorry, Mr. Potter! Though, the Ministry had come in here, offering five million galleons for the information!"

"_Five million_ galleons?" asked Harry, gritting his teeth. "Has it occurred to you that when I say, I will pay three times the amount of any books on Necromancy, that this would be valid point in keeping you silent, also?"

"Y-you mean, I would have had fi-fiftee—" began the owner of Domorvis's Books but Harry cut him off.

"Exactly, now your chance is gone, along with any monthly payments," said Harry, using the tone to provoke just how much richer the owner could have been. The bookkeeper's face showed of regret, guilt and shame as he looked down at the floor. Harry growled quietly, exhaling deeply. "Good day sir," with that, Harry left the store with the _Prophet_ in hand, after all, he still hadn't read the article yet, and he dreaded the prospect of just what they had reported. Then Harry disapparated away in a secluded alley.

When he reappeared in the kitchen, he found Hermione at the table, fretting over something. She looked up when she heard someone arriving and immediately stood up. "Harry! You didn't do anything drastic, did you?" she asked, worried evident in her eyes. Harry sighed, annoyed and looked at her in the eyes.

"I didn't kill the store owner, if that's what you mean, Hermione," this didn't relieve Hermione of her worries. "What?"

"What did you do to the owner, Harry?" asked Hermione, fingers wringing in her hands.

"Nothing," she gave him an incredulous stare, "I only just gave him a good talking to, spooked him and made him feel guilty, is all."

"Nothing? Absolutely no curses or anything?" asked Hermione skeptically.

"If you don't believe me, why don't you go see him for yourself!" said Harry hotly. He was about to retreat to his room when he heard another voice calling him.

"Potter, stay where you are," drawled Snape. There was no mistaking that voice. Harry slumped his shoulders and turned around to face him. "Have you even read the article?"

"That's the next thing on my _To Do list_, Snape, now excuse me," said Harry with sarcasm, annoyed for having his time being wasted with the likes of Snape. He immediately left the room before anyone could even retort. He went up the stairs to Sitting room. Finally having a moment's peace to himself, he sat down, looking at the foul thing called newspaper.

**Harry Potter is Taking the Books!**

_Yester-evening, a storeowner have reported to the Ministry on voluntary basis. According to the owner of the _Domorvis's Books, _The-Boy-Who-Lived have asked for the Necromancy books. As we have reported in the yesterday's evening news; the subjects on Necromancy, most particularly, the books have been reported to be disappearing all over England. The person behind this is none other The-Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter. One would wonder why he wants to get his hands on these especial books._

_From what the owner have revealed this shocking news, Harry Potter had offered to pay him five hundred galleons a month to forward any books on Necromancy to Mr. Potter. What's more, he also revealed that he is willing to pay three times the amount of what a customer would bid for. This causes a great stir in the Ministry of Magic, because yester-morning, we assume that it was Mr. Potter who entered the Library of Ministry and destroyed fifty books on the same subject._

_Sources also revealed that there had been two other people in on the Library raid and have managed to assume a false identity under the complex Magical Security. Aurors have been forced to investigate how and why the security failed and _if_ they _can_ be failed. Is the Ministry of Magic safe from any dark attack? "In the past, we have upped our security due to the invasion of Department of Mysteries several years ago," said Madame Bones, judge of Wizgamot court and acting Minister of Magic. "I only wish to know why Mr. Potter and whomever else was with him, destroyed those books."_

_The question remains; what is exactly Mr. Potter's interest in destroying the books, as far as we can conclude. The ashes in the Library of Ministry have been left behind matched the missing books on the shelf, and this assumption leads to that Mr. Potter may be destroying the knowledge of Necromancy._

_Is there any motivation behind his actions as to why he seeks to deliberate actions to destroy this magical branch? From what the public and the _Prophet_ knows, Necromancy is rarely practiced and only the powerful wizards and witches can perform. This lead to the speculation of the Final Battle which no one in the Wizarding world knows of the exact details. Does Necromancy have anything to do with this Final Battle? If there is, then something drastic must have happened to cause The-Boy-Who-Lived to be on this quest._

_Only two details that we have gathered from the Final Battle is that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his followers are destroyed. The other detail is that they had fought in the graveyard where The-Boy-Who-Lived's parents, Lily and James Potter—_

Harry threw the newspaper angrily at the wall, his wild magic lashing out at the _Daily Prophet_ with the fire sparks. Before his eyes, he saw the paper crumbled up and burned before his eyes and the last articulate print he could read was:

_If—true? Then we must help—at all cost._

The place where the newspaper laid had ended up in ashes and soot, the fire extinguished. Sighing, he felt really annoyed, that he was sure of; though, anger seem to still seeping out through his fingers, causing the soot recreated the fire; and he produced the flames to grow bigger. Harry took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. He didn't know how to deal with this, if they're going to help, then most surely the people who held Dark Arts as the highest hobby of theirs will most certainly not give away to Malfoy.

With that thought in mind; he summoned ink, quill and parchment with the wave of his wand. He began writing a letter to Malfoy about the obstacle they had run into. Oh, he was sure that Malfoy saw the article by now and may be sending a letter on his way. Still, it was better to get in touch than none at all.

_Malfoy,_

_Whatever you do, misdirect the people you are contacting; after all, the news that I am sure you have received; via bloody_ Daily Prophet._ If you fail to persuade them, well, there's that saying, 'Desperate times call for desperate measures.' And I really would not like to retort to that. _

_Anyway, I'm going to use _their_ help to my advantage and I'm sure you know whom I mean. That bloody _Prophet_ of course, along with the Wizarding world that is willing to cooperate. Report anything that comes up unexpectedly or not being very persuasive._

_Tell me where to meet so you can hand over the books and for any money exchanges to get the books off other people that you have written/spoken to._

_Potter_

With that, he went downstairs to find Hedwig snoozing on the stand. Harry spoke softly to her, "Hey girl," she opened one eye, hooting sleepily. "I need you to deliver something for me." She hooted positively and Harry smiled in answer. "Thanks Hedwig, here's the letter, it's for Malfoy." She took the letter and as Harry opened the window, she flew out. He watched his owl disappear into the midmorning light and heaved a sigh. To his dismay, he heard a clearing throat behind him, Harry struggled not to roll his eyes as he turned around to face Snape again.

"What?" snapped Harry, his patience waning.

"Don't take that tone with me, Potter," said Snape coolly. "Now, what's next on your agenda?"

"Must you know _every_ bloody detail of what I do, Snape?" growled Harry, glaring.

"I merely wish to know, so that the others won't harp on me, asking pointless questions. I _am_ the leader of the Order after all," he said snidely.

"If you care so much about _the_ bleeding Order, I can move out! It's not out of my power, you know. So, leave me the _hell_ alone," said Harry, glaring daggers at Snape who glared back. Neither was backing off from their glaring-contest. It took Hermione and Ron to interrupt the pair, like a knife through hard leather.

"What's going on?" asked Hermione, both of their faces snapping to Hermione. She jumped slightly at their sudden move and Ron paled slightly, the tension had been too thick for their own good.

"Nothing," said Harry, looking back at Snape. "Absolutely nothing of the sort, come on Hermione, Ron, we need to get the rest of the books."

With that, the trio left the dining room into the hall. Hermione tried to say something to Harry but he held his hand up for silence.

"No, I don't want to talk about it right now, we're going to just focus on getting the rest of the books. I wrote to Malfoy a letter about our unexpected… _obstacle_," he sneered. For the rest of the day, Hermione, Ron and Harry had managed to get the rest of the books in Europe; including the places in Asia. Harry felt glad to be getting over with the places in Europe and Asia. The people, he noted, from all over Europe and Asia had been helpful in giving all the books to Harry when they had read the news.

It was then that Harry realized that the meaning of Wizarding world, it _had_ meant exactly that. He wondered just how affected everyone in the whole face of the planet was by Voldemort's first reign of power. There had been enough clues to indicate that it was widespread. Never in his wildest dream that it had been _that_ widespread. In one of the stores in China, he saw that some witches were familiar with English language and holding the blasted _Daily Prophet._ He made a mental note to ask Hermione about how connected are the British wizards and witches are with the rest of the world.

It was all ready embarrassing enough not to know enough information about the world he belonged to and Hermione is a _muggle-born_. He vaguely regretted in not taking his studies more seriously as Hermione had. Shrugging mentally, he disapparated to Grimmauld place to drop off ten books he got from a library in Nepal.

Exhausted, he flopped onto a couch as Hermione apparated before him, carrying at least forty books. She dropped the books with a soft 'oh'.

"There were so many books in one small bookstore! It was shocking to say the least..." she commented about the place she was in previously. "So, how are you doing, Harry?"

"Tired, I'm about to just drop dead," said Harry tiredly. Hermione frowned at Harry's words and tutted.

"You better not be, Harry," said Hermione just as Ron apparated into the room, dropping off five books. He too, flopped to the couch just as Harry had.

"I'm never going to wake up for two weeks!" exclaimed Ron, thoroughly exhausted. Hermione sat down with better grace than the two boys into a seat next to Harry.

"So, how many books is that?" asked Harry, gesturing to the today's pile of books. He then leaned back into the couch, indulging himself in the comforts of the sofa.

"Hmm, let me have a—" she waved her wand over the pile of books, "—a count of these and we've only collected six hundred and forty-four books…" she said with a frown.

"Well, that's a better number than I thought, commented Harry. "I thought we'd be around four hundred books down."

"You're right, we _did_ cover a lot more books than expected, so we're around three-thousand if my calculation is correct," said Hermione, taking the reference book out again and wrote the numbers. "Okay, you can destroy it now, Harry—" Harry lit the books on fire with the wave of his hand in an angry motion. "Harry!" exclaimed Hermione in surprised. "Calm down, okay? We can't have you being angry—"

"Who're you to tell me, Hermione?" asked Harry, growling softly and then sighed. "Sorry, I didn't… Sorry, I'm just stressed and angry. I'm calling it night, good night you two," with that he went to his room to sleep.

* * *

Thank you for reading this story and I would love to have some constructive criticisms. To one reviewer who commented on my use of vocabulary: thanks for the heads up, sherylyn. To quote the reviewer: Sometimes the mark of true intellect is not showing off how smart. I wholely agree, and I'll agree with that. Anyway, don't forget to review. 

By the way, the story is drawing to a close, around three to four chapters.


	9. Chapter 9

They spent the next several days collecting books from several of the places around the world. Harry's question had been answered over the course of the past few days. The Wizarding world _was_ interrelated with everything that was going on, and Voldemort _had_ been widespread. He had also discovered another thing; there was one central Ministry of Magic, and it was located in Switzerland.

Harry found that to be ironic, as the very country was neutral in the muggle world. He wondered if it was the wizard's influence that allowed the muggles to be an indifferent, powerful and rich country compared to the rest of the world.

They had managed to find all the possible bookstores and libraries listed. Surprisingly, there had been textbooks on Necromancy in a muggle university in Canada. He really didn't want to know _how_ they had managed to get their hands on them.

After breakfast the next day, Harry found Hedwig perched on the bed, holding a letter from Malfoy.

"About time," said Harry, grinning at his owl. He frowned at the letter, then picked it up, broke the seal and began reading.

_Potter,_

_Thanks to the _Daily Prophet,_ I've had a time trying to convince them. Money was one of the easiest ways to get them to hand over the books. I've also enclosed some letters from people wishing to communicate with you, indirectly of course; you understand. I've only managed to convince two-thirds of my contacts, as well as my parent's associates. A third are refusing to even sell the books. Not for any amount of money. They've said that they're interested in knowledge, more so than any sum of galleons you would be offering._

_Anyway, as to where to have our meeting, I suggest _Madame Puddifoot's.(Harry's face twisted into an incredulous stare at the location.) _I know, I know, odd place to… meet. But honestly, would anyone even suspect that we would go there to hold a conversation? Plus it is not any time near bloody Valentine's day. So, we should come around noon to avoid the crowd at night for the couples. I'm sure you understand this reasoning, Potter. If not, well, where else do you suggest? Hogwarts? Don't make me laugh, I am never going back there, even with that headmaster gone. _(Here, Harry sighed, annoyed by the tone Malfoy was using.) _Now, I suggest we meet on August thirty-first at noon. Don't forget._

It was unsigned, but it was obvious that it was from Malfoy. Shaking his head, (he didn't want to go to that restaurant,) he looked at the calendar, which pointed to August thirtieth. He looked at the other stack of letters that Malfoy had no doubt passed on from his contacts. Picking up the one on top of the pile, he began to read the somehow familiar scrawl.

_Dear Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Potter,_

_I don't know what you are thinking. This is ridiculous, though I am interested how much you are willing to pay. Your actions have been thus far, bizarre and hard to explain, especially Mr Potter's. I have no idea what you two are thinking, but allying with each other is most un-likely thing I have ever heard. Now, I have four Necromancy texts in my library and I'm very reluctant when it comes to getting rid of them forever. Don't you know that Necromancy is an art to perfect? If what the Daily Prophet says is true, then Mr. Potter must hav e a lot of money_ _Five million galleons is the only sum that I am will to accept, no less._

_Good day_

_Parkinson_

'_Pansy Parkinson?' _ thought Harry, _'So, that's why the writing's familiar…'_ He used the summoning charm for a quill, ink and parchment; to write a response.

_Dear Parkinson,_

_Five million galleons is fine, send them Malfoy's way while I send you the money._

_Potter _

No need to draw the response out when he didn't have to. He read the other letters and answered them accordingly. They had all asked for a sum that Harry found no problem paying, though he would have to be careful with money once the ordeal with Necromancy was over. Sighing, he began to wonder how to deal with the people who were not willing to give away the Necromancy knowledge for any amount of money.

'_Well, as I've mentioned to Malfoy, I'm going for desperate measures now,'_ thought Harry grimly. He really did not want to face the prospect of breaking several unnecessary laws—both Ministry and magical— however he _was_ desperate to try any number of things. The faces of the undead parents now haunted him in his sleep, and most of his waking moments. He felt that he was losing control over himself, as he had seen more objects around him recently exploding and burning up in flames. Much more, in fact, than over the course of the past two years.

The last time he lost control like he had a few days previous was during the Final Battle. Before he could think of it further, something interrupted his thoughts.

"Harry?" asked Hermione tentatively.

"Yeah?" replied Harry, getting up from the seat as he carried his responses to Hedwig.

"Were you just replying to the mail from other… people?"

"Yeah, Malfoy said that he managed to convince two-thirds of his contacts plus his parents, and this," he said, pointing to the pile of mail, "Is only a third, I've written about a hundred responses."

"Oh really? Well, I have good news. From traveling around the world, I finally counted all the books and we only have nine-hundred and twenty-three books to go."

Harry's eyes went wide at the new piece of information. "Well, that's great. So, assuming that everyone has an even amount of books, we'd only get six-hundred or so, and the rest…"

"…Will be a challenge. How are you going about to convince the rest?" she asked, biting her bottom lip in thought.

"Well, that's for me to know," said Harry, bundling up the mail and tying it to Hedwig's talons.

"It better be safe _and_ legal, Harry," said Hermione with a stern look. Harry sighed and looked at Hermione pointedly. "Harry…" she grounded out with a warning in her tone. Harry turned back to his white owl.

"Take flight, Hedwig, they're for Malfoy, all right?" Hedwig hooted and took off. Harry watched her leave, but before she could disappear from sight, Hermione cleared her throat. "What?" snapped Harry, looking back at her. Hermione ignored Harry's tone.

"It better not be illegal, Harry, we've done a lot of that already!"

"What makes you think that I'll do anything illegal?" asked Harry coolly. Hermione opened her mouth to retort then closed it, frowning. She began to open her lips again but the words won't come out. She closed them in defeat, eyebrows knitted together. Harry rolled his eyes at her behavior and decided to have some late dinner, leaving the sitting room for kitchen. Hermione followed immediately after. Neither spoke of the topic again.

¾¾¾¾

Harry arrived at the designated restaurant with black cloak and a hood covering his face. Sure, it might be an odd thing to see in such a place but he wasn't about to reveal himself to the public. In the back of the room, he spotted the familiar blonde head that he could recognize anywhere and scoffed. He wasn't hiding himself from the public. What was he trying to do? Call attention from everyone else? As Harry ventured further in, he noticed that there were only two other people and they were next to the windows. There was only one waitress, who also acted as a hostess; currently, she was taking orders from Malfoy.

Harry discreetly sat down in the chair across from Malfoy as she left. Malfoy took noticed of him with a gesture to the drinks on the table. Harry arched an eyebrow at this; he wasn't sure what to make of it.

"It's a friendly gesture, you Sca¾I mean, please do have a drink." He took a sip from his cup. Harry stared at him suspiciously and picked up the cup.

"Don't mind me but¾" He waved his hand over the cup to detect any poison and found that the drink was safe. "Sorry, had to do that, you understand." With that, he took a drink of the wine.

"Now, to business," drawled Malfoy, clearly understanding Harry's motives for being cautious about accepting drinks from the enemy. "I have brought the books upstairs, with the hostess' permission of course."

"Is that wise?" asked Harry, leaning forward on the table as he narrowed his eyes at the waitress.

"No need to worry, Potter," Malfoy said, "she's trustworthy. This restaurant is one of the branches of Malfoy estates."

"So, that's why you insisted on coming here," said Harry, leaning back in his chair.

"Well, of course I did, I wouldn't have chosen this place if it weren't an estate of mine," drawled Malfoy, taking another sip. "So, the total amount of people that are demanding money for the tomes you are seeking will have to be," he took a parchment out and slid it over to Harry. He looked at the piece of yellow parchment, scanning over the costs for each associate, then he saw the total amount of money and nodded; it had come to seventy million galleons in all. Harry did a quick math in his head and Harry watched her leave, but before she could disappear from sight, Hermione cleared her throat.

He knew he had about quarter billion galleons left in his vault, plus investments and all other things.

"All right, how are you sending them out?" asked Harry, leaning forward again.

"Surely, you must understand our customs in giving large amount of money. How else are you going to send the money? Carrying the entire vault in your endless pouch? I surely hope not," said Malfoy, arching an eyebrow.

"I am only just wondering which way I can pay, Malfoy. There _are _several ways, you know," said Harry coolly, glaring at him for underestimating his knowledge about the wizarding world.

"Yes, yes," he said, waving his hand at Harry mindlessly. "Now, you can just use the parchment to hand over the money and I'll distribute it to the right people."

Harry wrote the amount of money on the special piece of parchment that was made for Gringotts to accept. It was one of the newer methods of paying in the Wizarding world, and rather old in the muggle world if you counted how many months it had been in use. Still, the wizarding type was much safer than the checks that muggles used, and more authentic. After signing his name, he slid the paper over to Malfoy, who nodded as he pocketed the paper.

"Now, to deal with the people who are refusing to cooperate," said Harry, leaning back into his chair, steepling his fingers. He had to admit, some bit of Albus, the late Headmaster, his habits had rubbed off him. "Do you have the list of the people?"

"Yes I do, Potter, of course I brought the list." He took out another piece of parchment and handed to Harry. He scanned the list and found that there were around a hundred and twenty homes to visit. He sighed and looked at Malfoy, contemplating whether or not to involve him in his plans of _'desperate measures'._ Reaching his decision, he leaned forward with both palms on the table and elbows bent.

"All right, Malfoy," began Harry, glancing at the people in the building, then looking back at Malfoy. "I have one last thing for you to do." Malfoy looked skeptical and leaned forward to listen better as Harry used his low voice. He arched his eyebrow, waiting for Harry to continue, who hesitated slightly.

"It's time to visit them in person, and if they don't cooperate…" He swallowed tightly. "We're going to raid the house later."

'_We're?_ No, Potter, don't involve me in that sort of plan!" said Malfoy scathingly. "I'm not going to¾just¾barge right in and steal the tomes! Who's with us, then?"

"Just you and me, no one else knows and I want to keep it that way," said Harry, narrowing his eyes, challenging him to back from the 'request'. "The security part of the house, I can deal "Yes I do, Potter, of course I brought the list," he took out another piece of parchment and handed to Harry. How many houses on there, do you know?" he asked, pointing to the list of un-cooperative people. Malfoy scanned the list quickly and answered.

"Eighty-five or so," he replied.

"Not bad," said Harry, nodding. "It's very good actually," he corrected. "Since a lot of houses have children being sent to school tomorrow, we should take advantage sometime during the day after tomorrow."

"Why, why not tomorrow after the train leaves?"

Harry tilted his head, thinking and nodded. "Yeah, tomorrow, around noon. The sooner the better. It will be great if we can get all this finished before the weekend arrives."

"Unlikely, but a good goal to aim for," drawled Malfoy.

"Where do we begin?" asked Harry. Malfoy skimmed the list again, using his finger and stopped at a name.

"We'll meet in Knockturn Alley at noon in Urn-Eye's," said Malfoy. "There's two apartments near there that we will visit."

Harry nodded and stared at him pointedly.

"Ah, of course, the books, come Potter." With that, the two went to a hidden stairway and went upstairs. When Harry entered the room, he stopped in his tracks, eyes wide at the number of books piled around in the room.

"H-how many¾?"

"Six hundred and eighty-nine books," answered Malfoy in a bored tone. "Need help getting them back to¾wherever you go to?"

"No, I'll just take it from here¾er¾" He realized how hard it was to actually say 'thanks' to the archenemy. "Well, take care," he said, waving his wand at the books and transporting them back to Grimmauld place. It was something that Hermione had learned two days previous, making the trips much easier to go through. Malfoy stared at him, eyebrow arched in interest.

"Something that Hermione learned a few days ago," explained Harry. "It was exhausting traveling all over the Americas, you know."

"Really, what were the Americas like?"

"Obnoxious," replied Harry bitterly. "Honestly, they really don't have much tact, worse than Creevy was."

"I thought he couldn't be worse," said Malfoy in surprise. "Creevy doesn't have much tact at all. Is that even possible, in the Americas?"

"_Especially_ the United States, I never met such… atrocious people before I went there. Merlin forbid, there were some people worse than you."

Malfoy chuckled at this and shook his head. "Am I so bad?"

"Yes, Malfoy. Taking care of your looks constantly, the way you carry yourself. How you acted with the women, need I go on?" said Harry, then wondered why he was lingering here. Harry shook his head, saying, "Never mind, I need to get back, good day."

"Good day to you, Potter," said Malfoy, nodding. With that, Harry disapparated to Grimmauld's place. He found that Hermione was staring, awestruck at the amount of books Harry had sent.

"Did Malfoy really collect all of these?"

"Yeah, I was surprised too, I had thought there were less," said Harry.

"Six hundred and eighty-nine!" exclaimed Hermione, grinning. Harry smiled back, wondering at what was going on with the, dare he say it, growing friendship between him and Malfoy.

Shaking his head, he said, "I'm tired Hermione, I'm going to take a nap."

'_Yeah, that was it, I'm tired,'_ thought Harry, trudging to his room, using that explanation for his bizarre conversation with Malfoy today.

¾¾¾¾¾

Malfoy and Harry knocked on the apartment's door, waiting for someone to answer their call. Moments later, the door opened a notch, eyes peering out cautiously. The person realized who was at the door, their eyes hardening on them. Harry was prepared for the person to slam the door in their faces. Instead, the door opened up and let the two boys in. Harry tentatively entered the apartment, following Malfoy. He barely got to look at the surroundings before he realized it was a lady that had answered the door.

"Are you two here about the Necromancy texts?" she asked coolly.

"Yes ma'am," replied Harry. "Any particular reason why you are willing to keep the books?"

"Because they're a family heirloom," she responded without pause. "They've been passed down from generation to generation. On top of that, destroying any knowledge is dangerous and unthinkable. No matter what good it will be for."

"Well, I understand that it's hard to get rid of a family heirloom, I know I would keep any that belonged to my ancestors. Just what type of ancestors do you have?" asked Harry.

"If you mean to ask what type we usually practice, is Necromancy. Of course, I haven't been able to practice it, far too much magical draining." She then paused, frowning. "I don't have anyone to pass the tome on to, though… I have no family members left and I'm the last of my line," she said sadly. She walked over to the bookcase and pulled out a book, stroking it sadly. "My husband was taken in the first rise of You-Know-Who, then my children…" She paused, her eyes glistening. "They were taken in the second rise of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

She turned to Harry, her voice strong and face stern. "Please, tell me how he was defeated. I may be able to hand over the tome for the knowledge of how you defeated Him."

Harry sighed. It was either tell her and get the book or not tell her and steal later. He would feel bad if he did the latter one. Harry nodded and walked over to the sofa. She followed, her wand waving to summon teacups and a pot of tea. Moments later, they each had their own cup of steaming hot tea. Harry began to tell her the tale that he had told to Hermione and Ron.

In the end of Harry's story, the lady nodded, smiling.

"I don't see why you are stubborn in keeping this to yourself. It was very hardy of you to destroy the last of your parents' ashes. But," she paused, "in a way, I do understand why."

Harry tilted his head down, staring at his feet, wondering how he was supposed to say something to that.

"Don't be ashamed, Mr. Potter," she said, face stern again. "For your tale, here is the tome. However, I do not believe it is a worthy cause for destroying Necromancy. They can be used for the good, you know."

Harry looked up, incredulous at what she was saying, "How¾?"

"It can help the fight against the dark, such as the Death Eaters and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and various other things as well," she explained. Harry shook his head.

"I fail to see how Necromancy could be used for the good," said Harry and she sighed.

"Well, they could be used to clean the house…"

"Don't you get it," interrupted Harry. "They're all for selfish uses. Once people are dead, they're dead for _good._ End of story, full stop. Using the deceased for selfish ends is disrespecting the dead; they are trying to have their eternal, peaceful sleep."

The three fell into silence. She stared at him in shock, as though she never seen him before. She looked at her book, frowning in thought. She sighed and relinquished the book to Harry with great reluctance.

"I'm sorry, I never realized it. The way you worded the _words_…" she shook her head. "Please take the book, it really is a selfish branch of magic." Harry accepted the book wordlessly and nodded.

"Thank you, Ms…?"

"Ah, you never knew my name. It would be Ms. Ostermoor," she said, formally introducing herself.

"Thank you, Ms. Ostermoor," said Harry, the three getting up from the sofa. She led them to the front door.

"I'm sorry to intrude like we had…" said Harry but she waved him off.

"Don't bother, I understand your reasons. I'm sure that even the Ministry of Magic wouldn't have tried to Necromancy if you had left it in their hands."

"Thank you, have a good day, Ms. Ostermoor," said Harry, leaving the apartment. She closed the door as Malfoy led Harry up the stairs.

"The other person that lives here is two floors up," said Malfoy, climbing up the stairs. Harry dreaded meeting any more people and wondered if he would have to tell them what happened in the fight with Voldemort again. He realized that he was glad that he hadn't told the world yet.

'_If I had told everyone what happened, people may not have listened to me as Ms. Ostermoor had… Well, I suppose when all of this is over, I'll have an interview with a reporter. It's better than having rumors flying all over the place,'_ thought Harry, arriving at the destination. He knew that Ms. Ostermoor wouldn't pass on what happened, there was too much emotion involved. Malfoy took the opportunity to knock on the door as Harry stared at the doorknob. The door creaked open slowly then slammed open. "Draco! What's going¾Potter!" exclaimed Theodore Nott. Harry stared at the boy's face, which had gotten pale since the last time they met. "This isn't about¾" he began.

"It is, and you're giving the book," said Malfoy, "to us."

"Why should I? They were my father's books!" Harry sighed in annoyance. Before Harry could do anything, Malfoy stunned him, surprising Harry to no end.

"Wha¾"

"I had to do that, Theodore got a bit loony over the summer," explained Malfoy, entering the room. Harry reluctantly followed him in and he went over to the bookshelves. Malfoy took ten books out of the shelves and turned to Harry. "There's one book missing."

"Ah, how do you know?"

"Potter," he drawled as though Harry was stupid.

"Oh right," said Harry, realizing that they may have stayed at each other's houses. Malfoy rolled his eyes and went off into another room to find the missing book. Harry looked through the books that Malfoy had gotten out. Stacking the book he received from Ms. Ostermoor on top of the pile, he waved his wand and sent them to Hermione's room.

They had decided that Harry could send the books to Hermione's room throughout the day so she could keep count of the books. Malfoy came back out with a book in hand, smirking.

"Theodore's gotten predictable, he hid this between the mattresses. As if I wouldn't find it there… ah, I see you sent the books already?"

"Yes, Malfoy," replied Harry, waving his wand again, the book in Malfoy's hand vanishing. "Where's next?"

¾¾¾

Evening rolled around as both Harry and Malfoy traveled from house to house, convincing quite a number of families to hand over the books to Harry. However, some of the houses were refusing to hand over their books, but they had been written on a piece of parchment. They would be revisited later. Harry finally decided that Malfoy could come to Grimmauld's place. He still didn't trust him, though he wasn't nearly as bad as he had once thought that he was. They've had the most bizarre of conversations such as the likes of quills, inks, and Merlin forbid flobberworms.

"I mean, really, he should have taught us better than that. Flobberworms, come on, who is taking care of that now?"

"I know, but that's Hagrid for you. At least they don't poison you. Or burn your fingers, bite them or break your bones," said Harry coolly, remembering the Hippogriff's incident.

"Hey, hey, I'm sorry about that one time with that hippogriff!" exclaimed Malfoy, raising both of his hands up. Harry wondered why he was apologizing now; it was baffling to even think about it. "I mean, I know I shouldn't have insulted the ruddy bird but really, seeing that you _flew_ with him…"

"I fail to see your explanation as to why you are _apologizing," _said Harry.

"Well, let's see, who just beat You-Know-Who?" asked Malfoy, sarcastically. "Of course, I would want to apologize so I can be on your better side. Honestly, which part of you is more dominant? Gryffin-dork or Slytherin?"

Harry shrugged his shoulders in answer, walking into the Leaky Cauldron for a quick, late dinner. "I don't know, the hat did want me in Slytherin. It was only you and Voldemort that prevented me from going in there."

"What, I stopped you from coming to _my_ house?" asked Malfoy, incredulously.

"That's right. Hey Tom, two butterbeer please," he said, ordering the drinks, then turning back to Malfoy. "Hagrid also told me that more dark wizards and witches had been churned out of there than any other houses. Of course, I know even Gryffindor can have some bad… apples," he said, glaring at the memory of Wormtail.

"Mmm, I wonder how things would have been if you had ended up in Slytherin," said Malfoy as he drank his butterbeer.

"Thank Merlin, that I didn't," said Harry sourly. "Turkey sub sandwich for me," he said to Tom, who was waiting for their orders.

"Lasagna," said Malfoy, then turned to Harry. "But Slytherin's not all that bad," he argued.

"That's what you say," said Harry. "Plus, Snape hates me, more than ever."

"Well, I am sure he wouldn't have if you had ended up in Slytherin."

"No, the reason he hates me is because I'm the spitting image of my father," said Harry, drinking another sip of his butterbeer.

"Really, so the stories were true?" asked Malfoy, arching both eyebrows in curiosity.

"What stories?"

"The fact that you were an arrogant, attention-seeking little prat like your father?"

"No, oh no, Merlin no," said Harry, shaking his head. "I mean, that's what my father was, but, am I attention-seeking kid? Have I ever tried to keep in touch with any of the reporters of the bloody _Daily Prophet?_ Am I even arrogant?"

"Point taken. You seem too humble for your own good," he replied, accepting his plate of lasagna as Harry picked up his sandwich.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Malfoy didn't answer him. The pair ate in silence, thinking about their archenemy. "So, what made Nott go… loony in the head?" asked Harry, striking a conversation.

"Well, the fact that you killed his father in the last second battle. He wanted revenge for awhile but gave up. I think he almost wanted to have his revenge again today," said Malfoy, thinking. "Plus, he lost all of his family members to you and your ruddy Order."

"Well, it's not our fault that they went against us," said Harry defensively.

"I'm not saying that it was your fault. It was war, people die," said Malfoy, finishing his late dinner. Malfoy took the list of people out and counted. "So, we have three houses that didn't answer our calls, fifteen houses refusing to hand over the books, and the rest have been convinced…"

"So, eighteen in all?"

"Yeah, but I don't think we should raid the houses that haven't answered the door," said Malfoy.

"What if there is no one home for a year?"

"… Oh all right," said Malfoy sourly, frowning. "Can we do this tomorrow night?"

"Yeah, I'm tired as it is," agreed Harry. The pair paid for their dinner and left the Leaky Cauldron. "Well, you could come to our place if you wish," said Harry.

"Why would you want to?" asked Malfoy incredulously. Harry shrugged in answer.

"So you know where to send the books to when we… ah, raid."

"Point taken, and you'll teach me the spell?"

"Of course, but you'll have to have Hermione teach you, it's rather complicated," explained Harry.

Malfoy frowned. "Why does she have to teach me?"

"Believe me, it's tricky at first, but once you have it down, its easy," said Harry. "Anyway, we don't have a secret keeper at our place anymore so you can just say the destination." He took a handful of floo powder, saying, "Twelve, Grimmauld's place!" He disappeared into the green flames and was sent into a whirling ride of passing through many grates and fireplaces. The only reason he was using this type of transport was so that Malfoy could follow as well.

He crashed into the ground-level sitting room and winced as he had bumped into a coffee table.

"Oh Harry, you're back," said Molly, greeting him happily. "How's..?" She screamed before she had a chance to say anything else, as someone else had just arrived.

"Molly, I invited him, don't worry," said Harry tiredly. "I just need him to show where to send the books and to have Hermione teach him something. Now, if you'll excuse us," said Harry, going up the stairs to where Hermione's room was located. Malfoy wordlessly followed, observing the surroundings.

"Didn't this house belonged to the Blacks?" asked Malfoy. Harry gave a grunt which sounded like a positive answer.

"I thought so… I've seen pictures when my mother was young. The house elves' heads are missing," he commented.

"That's because we got rid of them," said Harry sourly. He entered Hermione's room, followed by Malfoy. "Hey Hermione."

"Hey Harry¾Malfoy! Harry!" exclaimed Hermione.

"I brought him here so he'd know where to send the books while we … do something. Anyway, can you teach him the spell?" asked Harry politely. Hermione looked reluctant as she stared at Malfoy and nodded cautiously.

"Hey, I don't like this any more than you do, Granger," said Malfoy defensively.

* * *

Kudos to LuciusAndSnapeRock for beta'ing this chapter! Please read and review, they are one of the greatest thing an author can hope to recieve.  



	10. Chapter 10

The pair arrived at a manor that had once belonged to Severus Snape's father. Harry's queasy feeling worsened when Malfoy mentioned this information to Harry.

"Why didn't you tell me earlier?" hissed Harry as they hid behind a bush in the backyard of Snape Manor. "We could have asked Snape if he had anyone—"

"Really, Potter, would you walk up to him and ask?" queried Malfoy. Harry fell silent at this, frowning.

"Point taken but—" said Harry and Malfoy interrupted him.

"That's all there is to it. I don't really blame you. After seven years of torment in his class—"

"You were part of that, you know," said Harry harshly. Malfoy ignored him and carried on.

"—One would wonder if you would ever ask him for favours." Harry rolled his eyes and studied the back door.

"Well, looks like its clear," said Harry, waving his wand. "But magical-wise, no. _Finite, Magiura-lete, Bnuemious,"_ he said, disabling the wards. Harry nodded to Malfoy, who led the way into the house, Harry checking periodically for wards. Once the pair arrived on the third landing of the manor an alarm went off.

"What!" yelled Harry. "But—"

"Let's get the books!" Malfoy cut in, running into a room full of books. Harry followed, checking for traps. Once Malfoy found the three books on Necromancy, Harry turned around but ran into someone.

"Arugh!" yelped Harry, backing away from the person, his wand trained.

"Well, well, well, Mr. Malfoy and Potter raiding my father's house. How interesting and foolish," said Professor Snape coolly. "Kindly explain why you're here in the library with three books?" Harry hesitated and glared at him.

"If you wanted to help me with this 'quest', you'd have handed these books over!" said Harry.

"Potter, do I look like a person who would get rid of any knowledge of a magical branch?" asked Snape, glaring back at Harry.

"You're too greasy of a git to even _care_ about knowledge," said Harry snidely. "Let alone anything else _but_ Potions and Dark Arts. Necromancy sure is one of them, but your nose is far too large for that branch anyway. Now, excuse me," he said, trying to walk past Snape.

"_Potter!_ Stop right this instant," growled Snape, glaring hatefully.

"Sir," said Malfoy after watching the two angry wizards leering at each other. "Potter's been black mailing me…" Harry's face snapped at Malfoy with an incredulous look.

"What?" asked Snape softly, looking at Malfoy. Harry shivered at the tone. He was scary when he was screaming, but when Snape used _that_ tone, it was downright frightening.

"He has," said Malfoy, looking at Harry.

"Malfoy…" gritted Harry.

"Did he blackmail you into helping him with this useless cause?" asked Snape. Malfoy nodded in answer and tried to speak.

"_SILENCIO!"_ yelled Harry, his gaze of anger intensified.

"POTTER!" snapped Snape, his wand aimed at Malfoy. _"Finite."_

Malfoy found that he still could not speak and his eyes widened in horror, mouthing words. _'I can't speak!'_

"Potter, release him!" threatened Snape, his wand trained on Harry. Harry rolled his eyes and used the summoning charm, causing the tomes to soar from Malfoy's grasp.

"I'm sick of this. At least I know where the last two houses are," said Harry coolly. Before Snape could bind him, Harry disapparated back in his room. After dropping the books on his bed, he rubbed his temples.

How he hated Malfoy when he interfered. _'Well, if you were a Slytherin, you'd find every way possible to escape the black mail,'_ said a voice inside his head. Harry shook his head, taking out the parchment that listed the places he had to go to next. Harry knew he was at a disadvantage, due to the fact that Malfoy wasn't with him anymore. Growling irritably, Harry set the books on fire, using a Fire-Containment spell to avoid burning up his bed. Harry then disapparated to the last house listed, to throw Snape and Malfoy off as he was sure they would be in the second last house listed.

Smirking to himself, he sneaked inside the house, checking for booby traps, wards and other things. In the kitchen he found a booby-trap that would have killed a person on sight; the ceiling was full of spikes. Before the ceiling could drop on him, he used a powerful stopping charm, causing the ceiling to stop mere inches from his hair. He shivered slightly at how close he had been to death. It wasn't like any other close shaves he had with macabre closures; he had literally _seen_ how close the spikes were. Shaking his head, he crept inside another room. There were booby-traps in other parts of the house as well, though nowhere near as close as the spikes had been.

After he found the bookshelves containing Necromancy in the sitting room, he looked around cautiously and crept back out of the house, re-enabling the wards as he went. Once in the safe confines of his room, he deposited the books. He knew that the Slytherin duo would be waiting for him at the last house. Harry blinked and felt that he the words _last house_ just wouldn't sink in.

'_Last of the Necromancy books…' _thought Harry, his words slightly muddled in his mind. He had come such a long way to destroy all of these books and now he was down to last ten books, as according to Hermione, this house would have ten more books. Harry sat down on his bed, his elbows on his knees as he rubbed his eyes. _'I can't comprehend this,' _thought Harry, taking a deep breath. He had to get the books now; then he could finally be finished with this tiresome task. Apparating all over the world had depleted Ron, Hermione and himself. Getting to his feet again, and with a glance, he lit the books on fire with the usual containment spell. It wouldn't do if Snape got the books before he came back. Harry then apparated to the furthest point from the manor. Fifty paces away, Harry spotted Malfoy and Snape standing around.

Harry smirked at this and studied his surroundings. The only way to get inside the house was to keep to the line of trees and around to the front of the manor. He did that, and on his way he caught glimpses of their whisperings.

"—ink that Potter could be here?" asked Malfoy, looking around warily.

"I'm sure he will be here, after all, it was next on the list as—" Harry couldn't hear anymore as he continued to creep around the shadows. It was usually a bad idea to stick around and listen to people's conversations. Harry waved his wand at the front door and found it free of warding. Curious, he cast the spell again with more force. There was absolutely no warding at all. Deciding to take the chance, Harry used the unlocking charm on the door and entered. No alarms sounded and Harry looked around in the foyer, checking for security spells. So far there were none, so Harry went up the stairs to look for the library. Most manors that Harry had gone to usually had their libraries on second or third floors. Luck was in his favour as Harry found the library. Searching quickly with his Lumos spell, he spotted the Necromancy tomes. To his dismay, there were only eight books on the subject in the room. He tried to search for the missing two books and felt frustrated.

'_Nox,'_ said Harry angrily, he resisted the urge to punch the table and sighed. This wouldn't do at all, Harry knew. He took the eight books and used the special waving spell, causing the books to disappear.

He glancied around to make sure that nothing was off, then, satisfied, he went back downstairs, clinging to the walls. Breathing slowly, he crept under the window near where Malfoy and Snape were standing.

"I really hate to think that Potter could be inside the house now. Can't we go in?" asked Malfoy.

"I believe that he isn't. Otherwise the wards would have been going off. From the assumptions that I have made in the past, Cassandra Trelawney was rather… picky about her security measures," drawled Snape. Harry froze where he was; this house belonged to the Trelawneys? He shook his head as he focused on their conversation.

"What if the wards died along with her?" asked Malfoy, his voice frowning.

"No, they wouldn't have. In fact, the warding seemed to have increased," explained Snape, sounding closer to the window. "This is why we are not guarding the Library." Harry moved away from the window, not sure what to make of what Snape had said.

'_If he's telling the truth and is correct, how the hell did I get inside?'_ thought Harry, walking inside a room that looked like it was made for tea time. A voice startled him.

"_Harry Potter, how pleased I am to see you,"_ said a feminine voice.

"Wha—" began Harry. He looked around and found an ethereal form of a body appearing before him.

"I am not a ghost, but a memory of sorts. The reason that you are allowed in is because I have Seen that you would come here one day. Necromancy is magic that takes One's energy to make good of something. Sadly, Necromancy is used for evil ends, therefore you seek to destroy it. I cannot allow this to happen, so I withheld two tomes from you, Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, The-Man-Who-Fulfilled-The-Prophecy." She paused, staring sadly at Harry.

"_I apologize as you may feel hysterical, but, to destroy knowledge to settle your reminiscences of nightmares… that will nevermore happen. Memories make who you are, what you are and why you are now. I have seen the people in far future using my tomes —for good. The times are turning bright for the next three centuries. Don't be perplexed, child of Prophecy, for they are to meet good deeds. I must leave, soon, Harry Potter. You will regain your happiness. Soon."_ The figure in mist formation faded into wet droplets as it showered the floor.

Harry couldn't move from where he was, he couldn't get rest of the books. Gasping for breath, he sat on the floor, his knees drawn close and his arms wrapped around his legs. It was Cassandra Trelawney's fault that he couldn't get the last two tomes on Necromancy. He didn't care if they would be one day used to good ends. Letting out a soft sob, he buried his face.

* * *

Kudos to LuciusAndSnapeRock for beta'ing this chapter! 


	11. Chapter 11

Second Edition

After a long while in his own thoughts, Harry's further contemplation about Cassandra Trelawney and her prophecy concerning the Necromancy tomes was interrupted.

"Potter! How did you get in there!" yelled Malfoy. Harry's face snapped to the direction of the voice. He got up from the floor with wand in hand. He wasn't about to be taken down so easily.

"Malfoy," said Harry coolly, greeting the blonde haired young man.

"Must I ask again how you got in there?" snapped Malfoy. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Apparently the owner of this house was prepared for my entrance," said Harry, his sarcasm evident in his voice. Malfoy snorted and Harry saw that Snape had joined Malfoy.

"Well, why don't you let us in?" asked Snape snidely. "If indeed the owner was prepared for you, surely you can let us in?"

"Not a chance. Anyway, I decided I'm not going to hunt the books anymore," said Harry, sighing.

"I don't believe you," drawled Snape.

"Believe what you will, Snape, but I _am_ not going to hunt any more books," snarled Harry. "I found a bloody impossible obstacle in my path and she's _clever_," he spat. "Now, if you will excuse me—"

"No, we won't excuse you, said Malfoy, his wand trained on Harry.

"Do that and you will face dire consequences," threatened Harry. Malfoy hesitated and put his wand back down at his sides, glaring at Harry. "Thought so—"

"_Petrificus Totalis!"_ cried Snape, and before Harry could even react, he was frozen. A loud thud was heard as he made contact with the floor. "Good, now… _moblicorpus."_

Harry's body floated out of the house and stopped before Snape. Harry tried his best to break out of the confines of the hex. He couldn't believe that he had been so easily caught off guard. His eyes were held firm in a glare, shooting daggers at Snape like the face of death. Snape ignored the looks, but not without a slight shudder through his arms.

"You will tell us why you decided to… _stop_ looking for the tomes you seek. Haven't you destroyed them all?" Harry made no movement due to the hex that was hold him. "Never mind that, I'll soon learn about that. As for your abysmal behaviour for the entire summer, I will exact _my_ debts on you."

Harry had no idea what Snape was blabbering on about and his eyes showed an incredulous, confused stare. Snape carried on the conversation while Malfoy stood there, an amused look on his face.

"What I mean, for your simple-minded brain, is to get rid of this lousy debt I've carried since your idiotic father saved me."

Harry wanted to say something, to argue that he already had saved his life.

"Ah, you think I've had my debt repaid? No, Potter, I haven't. I still feel the claws of the debt around my soul, waiting to be set free," he said, his eyes boring into Harry's. "I will end the long-standing debt now…"

Harry desperately wanted to ask how Snape could end a Wizard's debt such as his when Harry was clearly not in any danger, excluding the two that stood before him. His brain put two and two together and his eyes grew large.

"Oh yes," said Snape, smirking at Harry's sudden change of expression. "Draco, do as you wish," he said as he stepped back.

"Of course, Severus," said Malfoy with glee, brandishing his wand on Harry again. "Now, as for your threat earlier," he sneered. _"Finite Incatatum, crucio!" _Draco threw the two spells in quick succession. Harry screamed in agony as soon the spell hit his chest. White-hot pain filled him as he felt every bone in him crushing, including the very bones in his ears. Tendons ripped, skin scalded and burned, muscles poked with burning needles. His eyes swelled larger than his sockets could hold. He couldn't stand the pain; he wanted to give in. Give in to the agony of his body and be stuck within his own mind. Something snapped inside of him and the pain was no longer. Had it been seconds? Minutes? He didn't know, but he indulged himself in the feeling. It had ended.

"Potter, it ends here now," spoke a soft voice that he could barely recognise. He felt lightweight, as though he was floating. Perhaps he was. His muscles were shuddering against the mere movements of the mobilisation. Before he knew it, he felt something soft and light on his back. Was he in a bed now? What was going on?

"Y—kno—sh—n't—lon—ane?" Harry tried to listen to the voice, but it was far too garbled for his mind to handle. Sighing, he accepted the darkness as he fell asleep.

The pain filled him when he woke from his slumber. He found that he could move easily and yet, the pain was there. He didn't understand why he felt pain. Was the pain within him or in his bones? He vaguely heard some voices speaking to him. Harry couldn't tell if he was standing or if he still in his bed. Maybe he was walking, as he could see some shapes moving past him. Were they—the objects—alive?

What was going on? He felt something—someone—somewhere pulling his arm to lead him someplace different. For some reason, he couldn't tell between a step and an obstacle and Harry realised that someone, or perhaps an animal, was sniffling. Harry wanted to scream, but he felt no need to. The pain was gone, yet there was still some pain within. Was his mind fooling him?

He couldn't tell. He desperately wished he knew what was real and what wasn't. He heard voices. Some where familiar but he couldn't tell whose they were as he was too focused on which pain was real and which was fake… Did his ears hurt? The tingling in his fingers was obvious. Why were they tingling with pain? He tried refocusing on his surroundings and nearly failed. He caught some unfamiliar words that didn't make sense and yet they did.

"I apologise—repaid—Mungos…"

What about the Mungos? Was it a fruit? A place to stay? A person? Was that his name? His thoughts were so jumbled, he couldn't possibly think that he could answer all of his questions now. He mumbled incoherently, trying to phrase some of the questions. He vaguely wondered if the room had suddenly become quiet or if his mind had finally silenced itself.

"—rry? D—eak—ing!" cried a voice that he couldn't place. His fingers were constantly trying to grip something, something that he recognised and yet he couldn't. He gave up trying to speak. Then everything was dim again. Harry never knew how long it had been since he was half-coherent, but something woke his brain. A soft melody was playing near his ears.

Fly away, fly away 

_From all the dangers_

_Coward and always be a coward_

_No such freedom will ever be rangers_

_Definition of Cowardice—never_

_Paranoia, paranoia, paranoia everywhere_

_Flying away, fly, fly, fly!_

_Flee the dangers!_

_None like the great chivalrous there_

_Aurors stand with courage_

_Bang, bang!_

_All down for count—fly!_

_Teachers give lessons_

_Bang, bang!_

_Treachery and lies—fly!_

_Love of another_

_Bang, bang!_

_Betrayal, shunned, denial and suicide—fly!_

_Fly away, fly away, fly, fly!_

_So much fear, paranoia and hidden truths_

_Fear onto fear, hide beyond hide_

_Fly, fly, fly, fly and flee!_

Harry felt moved by the song. It reminded him of something. Could it be about himself? Why did the song shake him so much? He didn't know if he was walking or not, but he heard that the melody was getting louder as he moved. Realisation had dawn upon him. He had been cloaked in this invisible pain. He hated the imagined pain and wanted it all to end. His mind snapped into reality and saw for the first time in a long time, the faces of the Longbottoms. Everything flashed before his eyes; his short living with his parents when they were alive, the stay with the Dursleys, Hogwarts, Ron, Hermione, Dumbledore, the adventures, the Final Battle and the hunt for the tomes. He collapsed to the ground, his kneed buckled from the overwhelming memories.

They were flooding his mind. He couldn't stand the thought of suffering a great long life in short life. How long had it been? Why did he end up like this? He remembered Snape and Malfoy and felt a smack across his face. The debt must have surely ended yet he felt the betrayal beyond words of description. He felt a hand on his shoulder and he looked up and glanced into the very eyes of his old professor who taught Potions. He blinked. Was that concern? Concern in the man most notoriously famous for his cold exterior?

"Potter?" he asked softly. Harry tried to speak. He could understand what he was saying. "I think you need to come back to bed…" Harry shook his head. "… Potter?" he asked with scepticism.

"P-pro-professa," spoke Harry, straining his voice. The words felt strange on his tongue. He tried again, "Professor…"he said.

"I don't believe it," said another voice that Harry recognised.

"I… what…" spoke Harry slowly.

"Harry… it's been a year…" said a feminine voice, full of sorrow.

"A… year?" asked Harry. Had he been out that long?

"You've been up but you never recognised the surroundings…" explained the same feminine voice.

"You've been tortured into insanity," said another voice with harshness. "It's a good thing that git is in Azkaban."

"Malfoy?" asked Harry, trying to get rid of all the surrealism in his mind. "Why is he in Azkaban when I made a deal that he wouldn't…?"

"Harry, he _tortured_ you into insanity!" she said. Harry looked at the girl to which the voice belonged. He recognised her instantly.

"Hermy…" mumbled Harry. She flustered and Ron sniggered.

"Oh Harry," cried Hermione, flinging her arms around Harry. She laughed as her tears rolled down the cheeks. Harry slowly put his arms around her and saw another boy behind her, looking at him sadly. Harry tilted his head, wondering how he knew this boy.

"Neville?" asked Harry. He grinned at Harry and nodded.

"How did you—I mean… break out?" asked Neville quietly. Hermione pulled away from Harry.

"I… I heard the song…" said Harry, his eyes glazed. "It reminded me… of myself, the struggles… my thoughts were so jumbled and the pain… I thought they were real, and they weren't. I mean…" He trailed off. "And yet, it wasn't just me, but the people I had loved… and the people such as my parents had loved, like… Wormtail… At one time… I had wanted to die, be in blissful peace."

He sighed, "I really am a coward, more than any of you will ever know. I wanted to protect you all, so I wanted to leave in peace…"

"Harry…" said Hermione quietly but didn't speak more after that. Harry saw another familiar face, a boy with red hair.

"Ron?" asked Harry hopefully.

"Hey mate," said Ron, grinning cheerfully as Harry spotted Neville walking to his parents. He saw the same familiar face of both Alice and Frank Longbottom. He pulled away from his friends and approached Neville.

"Do you… do you know how they're thinking? I mean, what they're thinking?" asked Neville quietly. "My gran… she died a few months back," he said with a sniff. "I've been visiting both of you since her death."

Harry felt touched by his sentiments and glanced at the pair of tortured victims. "Yeah, I know how they're feeling," replied Harry. "They're still feeling the pain that had been inflicted upon them… they're trying to recognise their surroundings and form words but fail…" He touched Alice's face softly, and felt something leaving him.

Before the pair, Alice's eyes blinked and the glazed look vanished. Neville looked shocked as he stared at her.

"M-mum?" asked Neville hesitantly. She looked at him with confused look.

"Wh—who—who're you?" asked Alice, trying to speak.

"I'm… Neville," he replied, staring at her.

"H—ho—how lon—long had—has it been?" she asked fearfully, touching her son with hesitance.

"Almost twenty years…" he said, sniffling as he hugged his mother. "I missed you so much. Every visit I saw you was painful, seeing the pair of you…." He trailed, looking at his father. Her eyes followed the line of Neville's and gasped.

"F-Frank…" she murmured, touching her husband, eyes filled with tears. Some of the life appeared in his eyes and it took a long time for him to comprehend his surroundings.

Hermione turned to face Snape with confusion in her eyes. "How are they coming back?" He didn't say anything, observing the three victims of Cruciatus curse, then sighed.

"I'm not sure, perhaps it was one of music, containing magic. As Albus had said… Music was one of the magical… _strong_ magical types of spells. Apparently, the words that Fawkes sang to Harry made sense. He indeed had seemed to… translate some bits of it…"

Harry realised that a large red bird had landed on his shoulders and recognised the bird as Fawkes. He smiled softly as he stroked the bird's feathers. He felt sorrow deep within himself and shook his head. Harry turned to Snape with a frown.

"If Malfoy is in Azkaban, then why aren't you?" asked Harry and Snape stiffened at this. "You let Malfoy torture me to insanity."

"What, you let _Malfoy_ torture Harry?" asked Hermione with fear in her eyes. "Why? Why did you lie to us? No wonder that Malfoy was yelling that you betrayed him... You did throw him into Azkaban!"

Snape glared at her and leered at Harry, watching everyone. He took his wand out and aimed it at Harry. Without word, he disapparated as Harry tried to do something to protect himself and sighed of relief when he disappeared.

"So, he was guilty too," said Hermione angrily. "How dare he!"

"I'll tell the authorities," said Ron, "stay here, okay?" he said, getting ready to leave but Harry interrupted.

"I'm…" he sighed, "I'm sorry, but I don't think I'll stay here," he said quietly.

"What do you mean, Harry?" asked Hermoine, knitting her brows together.

"I don't know. I don't think I can handle the wizarding world right now," said Harry, remembering his past. The lies that Snape fed to others and many other things.

"I think I agree with you," said Alice, smiling. "Who're you?" she asked, frowning.

"I'm Harry. Harry Potter," he said. The pair smiled at him in recognition.

"Well, I'm quite honoured," said Frank, shaking his hand. Harry nodded, shaking firmly.

"I'm honoured too. At least Neville has his parents back," Harry said quietly, looking at his former classmate. Neville looked down, feeling shame. "Not to worry, Neville. I'm not jealous."

"You aren't?" asked Neville, looking at him incredulous. Harry shook his head in answer.

"No. My parents are resting, but I think my work here is done," he said, looking out the window.

"Are you sure you want to sever ties from us, Harry?" asked Hermione as her tears filled to the brim of her eyes. Harry nodded in confirmation.

"Only for a few years, Hermione," he said. "Just until I have everything all… settled." She sighed and nodded in understanding.

"But if you decide to date and marry a girl, you'll invite us to the ceremony, won't you?" she asked with laughter in her eyes. Harry laughed in answer.

"Of course! It's a big event," he said, grinning.

"Yes, but if we do get married and have a baby, I'll let you know," she said, smiling at Ron.

"Ah, Merlin forbid that the pair of you two have children!" he joked. "Kidding aside, it'll be wonderful to see your children." Ron chuckled and slapped on Harry's back.

"Mate, if for any reason you need to contact us, let us know, all right?" asked Ron.

"Yeah, don't worry…"

"Well, I guess we shouldn't drag out our good byes too long," said Hermione, giving Harry one last hug.

"All right, mate. See you in a few years," said Ron.

"Bye," said Harry as the pair disapparated away. Harry watched the spot where his friends had disappeared and sighed. He closed the door, feeling overwhelmed by the sorrow in his heart. He didn't think the feeling would ever go away. Gathering courage, he too, disapparated away to certain plots in the graveyard.

He stared a long time at the tombstones, reading the inscriptions. He kneeled before the graves, sighing. He remembered the first memories he had with his parents. It had been thanks to the song that he was now able to remember his first birthday, the soft singing voice of his mum, the times that his dad put him on a baby broomstick.

James and Lily Potter 

_1959-1981_

_Strong as they were United_

_Love to their Death_

_Fall of Voldemort here_

_Wonderful couple, loving friends and devoted parents_

Rest in peace forevermore 

Harry cried. The tears he shed fell freely and were absorbed by the soil of his parents.

* * *

Author's Notes: Thanks to LuciusAndSnapeRock for beta'ing this chapter. 

Also, due to a lot of reviews about the confusion of this chapter, I hope I have cleared this up by adding and changing things around in this chapter.

Next is Epilogue.


	12. Epilogue

**:Attention: Chapter Eleven is edited to clear up some of the confusion stated in the reviews **

Epilogue

_After many years, the incidents of Harry Potter's life have drifted away into many history books. The lives that affected Mr. Potter's life were both known and not so recognized and learned. As the former Death Eaters of Voldemort—a name now uttered by everyone without fear, only to be spoken during horror stories and eventually, muggle movies—to the great consternation of the wizarding world. (You need to fix this one…your appositive is fine, but the actual sentence 'As the former Death Eaters of Voldemort to the great consternation of the wizarding world' is not a sentence. An appositive is completely separate from the sentence, and your surrounding sentence isn't…well, isn't a sentence. You need a verb.) One of the great many mysteries during the Era of Potter, as it came to be called, to include both First war, Reign of Peace, Second War and the Aftermath, is why Harry Potter sought to destroy the texts of Necromancy but never completed his task, as he quit at the last minute, sparing two books._

_Another enigma that was to be dealt with was that of Severus S. Snape. After Draco Malfoy tortured Harry into insanity, he was then cured by a phoenix that goes by the name of Fawkes, whose song then passed the healing powers to the Longbottoms via Mr. Potter's touch. (This sentence wasn't really a full sentence either, so I altered it to the best of my ability. I think that's what you meant. If it isn't, I apologize.) To this day the puzzle remains as to how the tortured victims of Cruciatus Curse were healed, as there have been no further victims to recover. This brings us back to the point with Severus Snape; as soon as The-Boy-Who-Lived recovered, he had immediately accused his former Professor of the crime in ordering his arch-rival Mr. Malfoy Jr. to curse Harry with Cruciatus. Once he was accused, Severus Snape fled St. Mungos._

_Subsequently, Mr. Snape has never been seen again, eluding the searches by the Aurors and common folks alike. Today, he is presumed dead, as those of the generation of Era of Potter have long since been dead. It should be natural for a man like Mr. Snape to avoid the capture of the clawing Aurors of the past as he held a great famous reputation and there is no question that Mr. Snape has set the standard for future Potions Masters of Hogwarts. To this day, it would be very sad to see the Potions Master to be soured and ridiculed by the general population. Slytherin—on many counts—has faced great shame and humiliation as a majority of Death Eaters, Malfoys and Voldemort himself, have come out of Slytherin._

_There was a rumor that had been flying around since the end of Potter's Era that Harry Potter himself was challenged to be put in Slytherin—hence the greater hatred for the Snake house. The love of Harry Potter has not lessened in today's times; his life has been deemed to be worthy of appreciation. Enduring the harsh life as a child, surviving the ridicule set by the Press and the general worship for him and The-Boy-Who-Lived as it was known to have hated his own fame. I'm not sure who you're talking about here, so I can't really fix it. It's very confusing._

_The greater question is—why didn't Harry Potter destroy the last two books that lay before my very own eyes? What was his purpose in sparing the tomes? What stopped him? These questions were never answered when Harry James Potter left the Wizarding world, when he was recovered from the condition he was put in…_

His fingers froze on top of the keyboard, studying the tomes carefully, trying to think. Sighing, he took a sip of pumpkin juice; that was once Mr. Potter's favorite drink. Drinking such liquids allowed him to put in a similar mindset of what Mr. Potter may have lived. Setting the pumpkin juice down, he sighed as he rubbed his temples with his thumb and forefinger. It had taken him only six months to research the Era of Potter—ever since he came into possession of the Necromancy books. His boss insisted on having him research as to why Harry himself spared the last two of the books that he had been so keen on destroying.

Staring at his cup for a long time, his mind blank, he picked the drink up and took a long swig. He thought of Voldemort and his antics in trying to take muggle-borns, half-bloods and muggles out of the picture. Then his mind went back to the original question that had spurred the entire research.

What stopped Mr. Potter from destroying the last two?

He flipped through the yellowed pages of the Necromancy text, titled: _Prickling with the Dead. _He had read the tomes more times than he could count on his ten fingers and nothing still made any sense. He thought that Harry was right, Necromancy _is_ evil, and there was no purpose to this particular branch of magic at all other than for evil intent.

Frowning, he turned his lamp on a little brighter to examine a page and read a section.

_While the caster has the undead bodies under their control, the caster may do anything it wishes to, from battling against a large army to as menial a task as making a pact with other people. Battling large armies can be simple, as the caster can only send one command to the army. However, for the pact-making, it can be a bit more difficult to achieve, but may be worth the great sacrifices in the end. The sacrifices can be much more distressing than the caster can ever imagine. Another use for the undead bodies is…_

He stopped reading, and leaned back, frowning, wondering what the pact-making meant. Taking the other similar-aged tome, titled: _Thee of Undead_. he looked through the pages, flipping one after another, searching for the correct passage and grinned as he found it.

…_now, for the peace treaties, although extremely rare, it is very dangerous to embark on. To create such treaties, the two opposite sides, at one time, must have desperately seeked for a union but failed. Raising of the undead is the temporary taking of the soul of the body and the soul of the caster. In the end, the caster will be drained to the point of exhaustion. In the last record of such happenings, the caster did not live after spending two weeks in a coma. In the book of _Living Dead check if this right ,_ there is exact proceedings on how to achieve such peace treaties. The raising of undead with temporary souls will have the greatest effect of the society and there is a high chance that there will be a forge of such pacts. This is usually essential after a long, drawn out war…_

Taking a break from reading the passage, he took another sip from his cup, trying to understand how this could be good. The spell sounded extremely dangerous, especially considering that people had died from such spelling. He thought to the current situation and found none in any parts of the world to be in need of a treaty such as the spell indicated. The rifts between the pure-bloods and muggle-borns had been finally given in to give a peace.

Then he thought about the muggles. Everyone in the wizarding world was still pointing their noses down at them, thinking that they were nothing more than mere bugs. Yes, most of the muggle-borns knew that was not true; but some still cannot help but put down the muggles. On the other hand, he did not know the general attitude of what muggles thought of magic. Certainly, the Middle Ages were hard enough on the Wizarding world and forced them all into hiding and to live in exile for many centuries.

"What good can possibly come out of this?" he spoke out loud, frustrated with himself. _'Heck, I'm even getting tired of living in exile while the muggles enjoy themselves…'_

His thoughts stopped for a moment, and changed tracks of musings in his mind, _'Wait, what if this is the answer to the unification of Wizards and Muggles? But, how can this help at all? I am willing to think that muggles will be terrified at the very sight of dead bodies… the movies certainly have that much influence on the general population of muggles…'_

He wrote his musings down on another paper, figuring that maybe, just maybe, this was the answer to why Mr. Potter had spared the last two books. Was it possible that he knew that Necromancy could actually prove useful? _'If he did, then why didn't he start on the unification of muggles and wizards?'_

Tapping the paper in front of him with his pen, pondering the answer he brought on himself. _'Was it possible that Mr. Potter didn't want to risk dying for that cause? Or… maybe he never found the books?'_

He sat up straighter at the last thought, frowning as his thoughts continued, _'If that is true, then that will certainly change a lot of things…'_ Sighing, he pulled another book, one which was about Harry's classes in Hogwarts and the professors he had—especially one of great influence, such as Rubeus Hagrid, Severus Snape, Minerva McGonagall and most notably, Albus Dumbledore. The findings on the number of Defense teachers that Harry had were appalling to the population of Wizarding world. How could one have so many teachers going after Harry Potter, year after year?

Shaking his mind, he flipped to the pages where he read about the Prophecy that Dumbledore had told Harry and frowned at the person that had foretold the Prophecy. Sibyll Trelawney. That name ringed an odd familiarity. His eyes glanced to the books on Necromancy. Then everything finally clicked together. Quickly, he pulled out another book on Seers and found the famous Seer, Cassandra Trelawney. After scanning the page quickly he stopped.

…the line of Trelawney usually skips for three generations and the following that went after Cassandra Trelawney is as follows: Sibyll Trelawney, Bornoa Trelawney, Harster Trelawney and the current one is Oprista Trelawney. Sibyll Trelawney is found on pages 421…

He flipped several pages and quickly read the page and sighed, it told him of nothing new as he went back to Cassandra Trelawney to finish the passage. At the last two paragraphs, he held his breath.

After Cassandra Trelawney's death, her house was found to be given a lot of excessive spelling and for a long time, no one could ever set foot in her own home. That is, until Harry James Potter stepped inside himself and found something that disturbed him greatly, causing several speculations as to what she may have left behind.

The speculations were that there may have been a prophecy that Mr. Potter found, or that he may have seen the memory of Cassandra Trelawney or any number of things that may have happened. To this day, the tomes of the books that Mr. Potter sought have never been found as he had never took them out of the house—if he even found them or touched them. The house of Cassandra Trelawney continues to be bound and warded completely, and the question of when the ward will be let up is yet to be determined.

Leaning back in his chair, stroking his gray goatee, his eyebrows knitted together. He knew that this book was slightly outdated as the house had finally been let up sometime less than a year ago. He wrote a few notes on that particular section that there may have been a chance that Mr. Potter had never found the books. Was that the reason why he had 'spared' the tomes? Or did something… intervene.

His eyes looked up to where he read about the unification of treaties or a pact of sorts and his musings went back to Wizarding and Muggle worlds. It _would_ be nice to live among the muggles and be integrated in full society. _'What about the people who don't want to be bothered by muggles—there are several theories that muggles would go to us, seeking help… hmm, lot of opened job opportunities there… but too much corruption…'_ His eyes sought the tomes again and sighed. _'Can Necromancy really be the answer?'_

Several weeks later, after meeting with a lot of general dismay, clamoring, and general jeering; slowly but gradually, people were given the chance at living in full society. Several headlines had run on how Necromancy would destroy the peace and upset the balance between the two worlds and bring new evil upon the world. Professor Enkran, the man who had been researching exhaustively about Era of Potter, brought on the idea of using Necromancy to create the unification between the two worlds.

Sometimes he had wished he _never_ brought up the issue at all, there was just so much stress. Sighing, he massaged the bridge of his nose and stared at his colleagues. Some of them had been against the idea, and some of them still were. Setting his right hand on the table lightly, he glowered at the people who still were not open to the idea of having an open society.

"Just think of all the new jobs it would create, surely, the muggles would want to seek answers and ask for potions? Not to mention that there would be even more jobs such as researching which potions are suitable for muggles and which are not," said Professor Enkran.

"Not to mention, with our influence, we can actually bring down that awful pollution that muggles have been causing for the past three hundred years. I've heard such stories that they've been trying to create contraptions that allow them to fly over roads! This would only cause even _more_ pollution, upsetting the very air we breathe!" said a woman who was going red in the face.

"Thank you Professor Dumbledore," said Enkran and turned attention back to the two men. "Please Sobeo, I know your line have been tainted since your great—"

"Do not mention him!" snapped Sobeo, looking surly. "Muggles are useless, and we are not going to mingle with them. Have you gone daft?"

"Perhaps," replied Enkran with a flippant tone. "Now, you're not being reasonable, you don't have any good reasons not to—"

"You want reasons? Oh, I'll _give _you reasons!" said the other man. "Honestly, living with muggles is just asking for trouble. Have you not forgotten about the Middle Ages?"

"We are much more educated than they were back then," retorted Enkran. "Plus, not too long ago, we devised a spell that will neutralize any bombs Muggles try to attack us with, including the most dangerous: the atom bomb. There really isn't _anything_ to fear now. A great number of us know how to freeze the flames, unlike the Middle Ages. Can you ever possibly hope to refute any of that?"

The table fell silent and a clearing voice grabbed their attention, "Well, I suppose a poll is called for, and see what _everyone_ in the wizarding world thinks," he said. "Professor Enkran, you have been most useful to our researching in Era of Potter. I don't think anyone ever made connections like you have."

"Please, minister," he waved him off. "It was simple. I just had the right books to research with. Especially on the topic of Necromancy… So, when do we begin?"

"A month," he replied. "That will give the public plenty of time, especially for around the world. This poll will be singularly the most important one in many years. The fate of the world will be riding on this," he said and shifted to Enkran. "Are you sure you want to go ahead with this?"

Enkran nodded in answer, not trusting himself to speak. The minister leaned back and kept talking. "If the poll has a popular vote in merging with the muggles, who will do the spell?" The question fell on everyone as they looked at each other in silence. Only Professor Enkran knew the dangers that the spell could bring.

"Why must we sacrifice an undead body? It would essentially kill the soul of the undead!" blurted Sobeo angrily. "Don't you get it? We can't disturb the quiet rest of the dead! You are essentially ignoring Mr. Potter's wishes! If your report is anything to go by, he would have actually destroyed the last of the two tomes," he said, now standing up.

"Sit down, please," Professor Dumbledore said quietly, feeling ashamed of her third cousin. With a huff, he sat down stiffly. "Now… I understand what you are saying Professor Snape, but you need to understand that the ties between the muggle world and our own have been strained since the end of Era of Potter. I don't think any of us can stand that kind of strain any more. Quite a large amount of muggles have found out about our existence and are of both alarmed and, grudgingly, acceptant."

"I still think this is a bad idea," said Sobeo after a long, pregnant pause. The minister shrugged his shoulders: _What-can-you-do-about-it?_ Disgusted, Sobeo left the meeting.

More than half a month later, the ballots from the extensive poll had finally been counted; with great anticipation, Professor Enkran's hands were twisting in nervousness. They had finally chosen the castor for the spell—himself. There had been long, hard arguments on that topic, wondering who would cast the spell.

Professor Enkran felt this job would be the right one for him. He feared that Necromancy could have gone wrong, and ended up upsetting the balance of the world that Wizarding world tried to maintain for so long.

He saw Minister Granst approaching him with a blank face. He didn't know what to make of the blank face. Was it good or bad news? Had the poll somehow tied?

"Professor Enkran," he greeted him.

"Minister Granst," he greeted back with a curt nod.

"I'll have to say that—the polls are in; they're in your favor."

"Wha—wait, you mean, the general population_ approves_ this?" asked Professor Enkran.

"Yes, that would be the correct translation," he replied. "I guess we have to start preparing…"

"Yes… of course…" stammered Enkran, as an uneasy feeling stomach settled in his stomach. He wasn't sure if he wanted to do this. He watched the minister leaving him in the middle of a corridor. Even though there were a lot of people bustling around, he felt alone and numb.

He pulled out a scrap piece of paper, worn with a week's worth of being carried from pocket to pocket. It was something else he had found out. The only way to mend the society between the two different worlds, is to break the unspoken magical contract. Reading his own handwriting, he read:

…the unspoken contract that was formed in the Middle ages, had started with the Necromancy, creating and splitting the world into half. In several passages from both books, the history is brief on this detail… to mend both societies again, one will have to repeat the steps… One step is different. The caster must forfeit his soul.

When he stepped outside into the night, he glanced up into the starry sky. The pollution was a lot worse than it had been centuries ago. The only stars you could see were reflections of street lamps from the muggle world. He had seen pictures and he longed to see them himself; in his mind, he knew he wouldn't be able to see such fantastic details. He wished that Mr. Potter could have found out about the details inside the tomes and mended the worlds together earlier.

He wasn't recognized by most of the Wizarding population before he was a Professor in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Now, the recognition was even worse, with the poll that had been cast. He could now understand why Mr. Potter had always hated his fame. He imagined that it was worse for him, having no parents to turn to or having to deal with the fame at a young age—especially from such an abusive household.

He finally reached his flat above Diagon Alley, where he was living since he wasn't needed during the summers at Hogwarts. Plus he found it disheartening to see an empty castle and felt it was fitting to live in a chaotic place. He knew now that the polls were going to vote for him and create a peace with the muggles. Tired, he rubbed the bridge of his nose again; after he settled down to sleep, he waited to discover the date of the rite to invoke when he woke up the next morning.

"We've decided that we will begin to mend our worlds next week," said the Minister in the following morning. Enkran sighed and nodded in acceptance of his fate. "Meanwhile, we will speak to the muggle world and inform them of our existence," he said, turning to other people in the meeting room. "I'm terribly sorry, Professors Snape and Xellos, for reacquainting with the muggles, but this cannot go on any longer. If we were to leave Muggles for another year to their devices, then the world as we know it will die."

The room lapsed into silence, shifting slightly and staring at different people, most of their gazes fell on Professor Enkran. The minister turned to him, eyes intent.

"Professor, is there anything you wish to tell us?" he asked. Professor Enkran nodded, swallowing thickly. The only thing they didn't know was that he had to sacrifice his life and soul.

"I have to forfeit to my fate," he said quietly.

"I refuse to allow you to do that!" Professor Dumbledore objected, slamming her fist on the table. Professor Enkran's eyes ran over her coolly and shook his head.

"I'm sorry, but do you want to live for longer than a year? See the stars for the first time in centuries?" asked Enkran, furious feeling growing inside his stomach as it was clenching and unclenching with each breath. He met the room with heavy silence. "Well?" demanded Enkran. Professor Dumbledore hesitated and sighed, shaking her head to dislodge something in her mind.

"Then it is settled," said Enkran, "now, do excuse me." With that, he got up from the chair and took his leave. When he disappeared through the door, the room was still silent and no one knew if it was out of fear or out of awe or anything else. Professor Dumbledore sniffled, using her left hand to cover her eyes to conceal her sorrow.

The Day to show themselves to the muggle world had finally dawned upon the Wizarding world as the Minister stood in front of a muggle television camera, swallowing thickly from nervousness. No one knew exactly how the muggles would accept the wizarding world. The cameraman signaled the minister that he was now live.

"Hello world," he spoke, "I am Minister Granst and I am here to announce something we have hidden for so long. Since the mid-Middle Ages, we have hidden ourselves from you; the people behind me," he said, turning slightly to gesture to the witches and wizards, "are people who are quite similar to you, except for the fact that we have magic. I understand that some of you will think this is a joke, and any magic we try to conjure is manipulated by your come-pa-tubers or however you call them. We ask for your acceptance and any witch hunts you try to attempt will fail. Back in the Middle Ages, large number of us had been rather uneducated and poorly defended. Today, the entire Wizarding world, as we call our world, is educated and, well, we want to co-exist peacefully."

"Also, I understand that there are a large number of Christians in your world and you will surely call us spawn of the devil or other utter nonsense. Please do understand that most of us also believe in the coming of Christ. Just like your world, there are many of our religions and beliefs, none of which celebrate Satan," said Minister Granst. "In a matter of days, there will be a rite that will sacrifice one dead and one living, to break this unspoken pact that had the hand in splitting the world in half. Alarmingly, during the last few centuries your pollution has been killing _all_ of us. Many of us estimate that the world as we know it will fail to support us within the next year. Most of you know that as well."

"If you wish to help Earth, we ask for your peace and your willingness to co-exist with all of us and make the world a better place with no pollution. Once we live together, there will be many jobs created, and the economy will surely rise. If you have any doubts, you will not have them within the next week as all of us will show ourselves in your public places and even in your residence areas. We have hidden ourselves for so long that none of you have, up until the last few months, suspected anything. Thank you for your time and have a good day," he said as the television camera went dead.

In the same meeting room, Minister Granst asked them all a question that had stumped all of the staff members.

"Which dead soul are we going to use?"

For a long time, everyone was silent, wondering who to use to sacrifice the very soul of the dead. Then Professor Snape gave an answer.

"How about a criminal one? Did the book say specifically that we have to use certain souls?" he asked snidely.

"No…" answered Professor Enkran, shaking his head. "I didn't find anything on that topic…"

"So, we can use a criminal's soul?" asked Professor Ubvra hesistantly.

"One who has committed the most terrible of crimes…" said Minister Granst to himself. Then everyone lapsed into silence again, they knew who to use.

"Voldemort," the room rang out loud.

"It's fitting. He used Necromancy himself and did a lot of heinous crimes. This rite will surely destroy the soul of Voldemort once and for all. There won't be a chance for him to even haunt us!" said Professor Ubvra in a hushed voice. Minister Granst nodded in agreement, his eyes thoughtful.

"But, what about the body?" asked Professor Xellos coolly. "If I heard Enkran correctly, you need a corpse in the rite."

"That is true," amended Professor Enkran. "Someone at the Final Battle scene had collected the dust of Voldemort in a vial… I guess the Defense Against the Dark Arts _is_ cursed, it didn't even last more than a year…" he said, chuckling darkly.

"Where is this vial?" asked Minister Granst, frowning.

"Right now, I'm assuming it is in Sobeo's possession," replied Enkran, his eyes roaming over Professor Snape. "Severus Snape had collected the dust and put it away somewhere in his house."

"But how will dust do in the rite? Don't you need a full corpse?"

"I'm sure you know about the decomposing stages. Any dead body will do, even in the form of dust. The cremation remains, I have read in the book, are able to form into some semblance of a body—if not entirely whole," said Enkran. He checked his notes and nodded. "Yeah, that's correct… Makes sense as all corpses tend to turn into dust. So, Sobeo, do you have this in your possession?" he asked, looking at Professor Snape.

He glared back at him and slowly nodded.

"Of course I do, it was too priceless and dangerous to give the vial away," he said.

"Very well, will you bring the vial on the Day of Rite?" asked Minister Granst. Sobeo nodded in answer and Minister Granst gave a small smile, "Good, good," the minister said, almost to himself. "Well then, I suppose we can adjourn this meeting until the Day of Rite?" Enkran nodded with terse movements. He knew he had only few days left and during that time, he had to prepare things such as wills. Sighing, he got up to leave with the others.

The dawn of the Day of Rite had, at last, arrived and before Enkran could turn off the alarm clock, the clock rang noisily. With his right hand, he smashed the alarm clock sleepily. He knew what day this was and he only had at least an hour's worth of sleep.

After his small, last breakfast, which consisted of two buttered toast and orange juice, he left his apartment. Once apparating in Hogsmeade, he stalked up the Hogwarts grounds, ignoring the detail that would prolong his arrival. His mind was on auto, he couldn't think of anything but nothing. He decided not to say good bye to anyone and leave a letter behind instead. Once arriving in his classroom, he let out a long breath. On the desk, he found the vial of what was left of Voldemort. Staring at the dust made him feel sick and he shivered. Looking away, he scanned the paper—of which contained the steps.

_Smell the corpse of the one the caster will sacrifice for two minutes_

_Set the corpse in front of the caster_

_Speak the incantation in order to make the corpse come 'alive'—_Vimotusader

_The spell to call forth the soul of the corpse and for sacrifice: _Animonsecro

_Sacrifce thyself—caster, with the incantation of:_ Misusecro

He skipped the last step; he couldn't bear to read it right now.  
The thought of it was far too disturbing for him to accept. He looked at the vial in question, and knew that the corpse the notes were talking about was the dust. Taking a deep breath, he took the stopper of the vial and slowly breathed in the smell.

Resisting the urge to retch, the scent he whiffed had the worst awful, nastiest, foul odor and it was nothing like anything he had ever smelled. The scent felt grimy to his nose and it literally burned the nerves in his sinuses. Trying to regain some semblance of control over himself, he was needlessly reminded that the odor he smelled was of Voldemort. It was hardly surprising. As he continued to smell the odor, he realized that the air around the vial was filled with misery and death, and it felt oily against his skin.

Once he was sure the two minutes were over, Professor Enkran pushed the vial away from him, desperate for some fresh air. Once he composed himself, he made sure the vial was in front of him as he took his wand out, preparing to make the dust come alive but not with a beating heart.

"_Vimotusader_," he murmured, spelling the vial and the dust. The dust flew out of the vial and materialized into a face. Biting back a gasp, Professor Enkran stared at the face, shocked and fearful of the once-alive wizard before him. Right now, the face was empty and somewhat calm. Taking a breath, he remembered the next step, a very important one as he would have to call upon the soul of this face—briefly.

"_Animonsecro_," he said, waving his wand. He waited with bated breath for several moments, waiting to see what would happen. The air swirled into existence around Professor Enkran, air pressure increasing and slight electrical flashing around the room. Then the effects snapped with a sudden bang, and, for a fraction of a second, he saw anger and bewilderment on Voldemort's face before it went back into emotionless façade. Gripping his wand with terror, he knew the soul was now in the room. He could sense his presence and he knew that Voldemort was angry.

Swallowing with effort, he readjusted his wand hand, staring at the face. He had two more steps to do. His chest heaving with large amounts of air and anxiety. Gulping again, he waved his wand, muttering, "_Misusecro_."

Instantly, he felt as though he had two entities, one of physical and one of astral. You got it, it's called Astral Projection. In his astral form, he can now see Voldemort clearly. He never knew anyone could be so extremely pissed before today and that was an understatement. The way Voldemort held his mouth in the most intense anger possible, his eyes in the narrowest way that he thought not achievable. His nose was flared with wild rage. The ire was evidenced in Voldemort's brilliantly, horrifying red eyes.

"So, you decided to bring me back from the depths of hell," he whispered in a way that terrified Professor Enkran to the very core of his mind. "And decided to sacrifice both of us for foolish reasons…"

Professor Enkran knew he had to complete the rite now, or Voldemort would return; in his body no less.

"I'm sorry to interrupt what I'm sure will be a speech, but I need to complete this now," said Professor Enkran with a cool demeanor that set Voldemort off slightly, but caused him to grin.

"Ah, don't think so, you little man," he sneered. Before Voldemort even realized what happened, Professor Enkran did the last step with a wave of his hand and shouted.

"_Confanima Mitto_!So long, Voldemort," he said. Voldemort widened his eyes in horror as they both watched each other fade away into nothingness. With a yell, Voldemort screamed and then there was nothing but a face of Voldemort and a soulless body.

A year after the events of Sacrifice and Necromancy, the muggles, wizards and witches are finally able to co-exist with each other, perhaps without order but there is peace nonetheless. The muggles had been wary of the other world at first and there had been a lot of discrimination and attempted witch hunts with Atom bombs which they, the muggles, failed in miserably. After six months of co-existing, both worlds finally came to terms with each other—only in understanding. As the staff of Hogwarts predicted, there had been a lot of jobs created and the economy rapidly boosted. The state of the Earth that had been once filled with pollution was finally getting under control. What was once rare was now a frequent- Muggle and Wizarding alike were able to gaze at the stars for the first time. Everyone knew that it may take years for each world to fully accept one another but it was only the beginning.


End file.
